


[podfic] think only this of me

by alstroemeria_thoughts (aurantiaca), MavenMorozova



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Community: pod_together, Domestic Fluff, Drug Addiction, F/M, Gen, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 2-2.5 Hours, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurantiaca/pseuds/alstroemeria_thoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavenMorozova/pseuds/MavenMorozova
Summary: Sometimes, a moment of compassion is all it takes to free someone from a life of misery.The Hargreeves siblings have only known strife, loss, and heartache. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Time heals, after all, even when your life will never truly be normal.Disclaimer: This was written before Season Two came out! Canon divergence between "Changes" and "The White Violin."
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves (one-sided), Cha-Cha/Hazel (Umbrella Academy) (one-sided & past), Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, The Hargreeves Family
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25
Collections: Pod_Together 2020





	1. precipice

precipice [31:05](https://ia601509.us.archive.org/11/items/1.-precipice_202008/1.%20Precipice.mp3)

**TEXT TRANSCRIPTION**

_note: this fic is meant to be listened to as a podfic! but the text transcript is available for those who need or prefer it._

__

Five could not remember a time when he’d felt more gloriously free from worries or strife. He felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his narrow shoulders, one he’d been carrying for forty-five years. A  _ physical  _ burden. And yet.

And yet something intangible nagged at him, something terribly worrisome and... _ itchy _ . Five couldn’t scratch it, and the tipsier he became, the more it seemed to obfuscate everything else around him, until he could only focus on that one, singular itch that told him  _ something  _ was out of place.

Five had hoped that by drinking his margarita, he’d be able to quell the feeling, but of course, he had been wrong. Alcohol had never been his strong suit. Now he was feeling rather queasy as he loped through the hall of the building that had been his home for a mere thirteen years, such a small amount of time in his life that just seemed to stretch on and on and  _ on _ .

Sighing, Five sat down on one of the classy antique sofas, his knees splayed out awkwardly. He was glad Hazel had left.  _ That  _ had been a tiresome exchange, especially when all he’d wanted was to be alone. And Diego had only made it all worse; that’s all his siblings ever did: fight, hold grudges, work under each other, and manipulate. Five was so fucking tired of it all, and now he just needed a nap.

Like he was ever going to get one.

“Family meeting,  _ NOW _ !” roared a familiar irritating voice from the elevator. Five groaned and rolled his eyes, reluctantly acquiescing as he stood slowly from the sofa. Luther, out of all of the Umbrella Academy, annoyed him the most. He could be so self-righteous sometimes—no, all the time. If he ever wasn’t...well, Five hadn’t seen it. Just because he was Number One, he thought he was the best, the worthiest, the leader. But no; he was just as petty and selfish and bothersome as the rest of them. Worse, even.

“Five, get in here!” Luther called again, voice rising. Five quickened his pace. Although he was a little drunk and certainly too tired to care, his adopted brother did sound quite angry and anxious...and Five thought he could hear a note of fear in his voice as well. Or maybe he’d just imagined that.

His siblings were gathered in the side sitting room, away from the grand foyer and bar area. Every single one of them was palpably stiff and nervous, even Klaus. His normally languid and carefree brother was sitting up straighter than usual, leg bouncing and hands twitchy, but not necessarily due to his desire for drugs. Although that could have been the case. It probably was.

Allison’s throat was bandaged off, her face streaked with light tears.. Noticeably, she did not sit next to Luther, instead perched on one of the ornate chairs, her feet drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around them tightly. Diego was newly revived from his passed out state, looking utterly furious as he glared at Five, nostrils fuming and lips pressed tightly together.

But his anger was nothing compared to Luther’s. Their Number One was pacing sharply on the rug, fists clenching and unclenching, brows drawn together. Five thought that if he could have been intimidated by one of his siblings, he would have been at least a little intimidated by Luther right now. Not that Five was subject to such feelings of weakness.

“I told you to come in here,” Luther snapped, head twisting to meet Five’s blank stare. “Why did you take so long?”

“The apocalypse is  _ over _ ,” Five snorted, his head jutting forward in retaliation to Luther’s hostility. “Harold Jenkins is  _ dead _ .” He emphasized the last word like a fierce strike of lightning, a bit of spittle flying from his mouth along with his voice. He wouldn’t admit to himself why he was so vexed, but still, Five knew: the apocalypse was far from over. He just didn’t want it to be that way.

“I’m not talking about your little apocalypse,” Luther growled with a shake of his thick head. He made it sound as if the end of all the world was little more than an irksome gnat in the eye, and it incensed Five even further. As if that was possible. “I’m talking about Vanya.”

“What about her?” Five asked, picking mindlessly at his fingernails. He couldn’t think through this haze of alcohol, and he was too tipsy—or perhaps even drunk—to outwardly show his exasperation.

“She has powers,” Luther said all in one breath, words convoluted but still understandable.

Five’s mouth twitched. “And here I thought that I was the drunk one,” he muttered to himself. “That’s some high-level bullshit if I ever saw it.” Although, the thought had occurred to Five as well during his long hours in the apocalypse.

“I’m serious!” Luther snapped, and staring at his brother intently, Five saw that he was; they all were. “Okay,” he said. “Vanya has powers. So what? Let’s teach her how to use them. Who else will?”

Allison gestured madly with her hands, mouthing,  _ exactly! _ , but the rest of them looked apprehensive. Klaus’s fingernails danced in and out of his mouth, and Diego ran one index finger along one of his sharpened blades.

“We can’t teach her anything,” Luther said after a moment, closing his eyes in frustration. “She’s too dangerous. She stabbed Harold Jenkins with, like, twenty knives. You saw it. And she nearly killed Allison, too!” With that last exclamation, his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared.

“How do you know she killed Jenkins?” Five shot back.

“It’s...a hunch,” muttered Luther, rubbing his temples. “Who else could have done it so brutally?” His eyes dawned with a sudden realization, and Five saw Allison bite her lip as she laid her head against the couch, staring up at their supposed leader with undisguised apprehension. There was something there between them, and Five found himself irked by it.

In his focus on the wrong thing, Five nearly missed the same conclusion that Luther had made in his own mind, a chilling suspicion about Vanya’s role in the Academy. But he caught the thought and held it tight, his own eyes widening in horror as he realized what it meant.

“She could even be the cause of the apocalypse,” Luther finally whispered, mirroring Five’s own thoughts.

Klaus broke the proceeding silence with a loud scoff. “That’s ridiculous,” he said with a forced laugh. “Vanya? The  _ apocalypse _ ?” He shook his head. “All that’s over. The glass eye, the assassins, all of it.”

“No, it’s not,” murmured Five, annoyed slightly at being in agreement with Luther for once. “Harold Jenkins was the fuse, but Vanya was the bomb!”

Suddenly Allison shot up, her arms waving frantically. What the—?

"Where is Vanya?" Five asked slowly. Luther stared at him, something hidden in his eyes.

"She's in this cell-thingy in the basement," replied Klaus as if this was no big deal.

“We have to get her out of there  _ now _ ," Five said quietly, yet firmly. For if Vanya was capable of ending the world, she could certainly destroy her man-made prison...and the Academy.

***

Allison was the first to rise from her seat, nearly tripping over her own feet as she rushed to be the first in the elevator. She shoved the gate closed once they were all in, minus Luther, who was still fuming over his defeat. He was brooding silently on the sofa now; the seat looked like a piece of doll furniture under his massive frame.

The old elevator jolted downwards in jerky movements, and with the combined slow-moving gears and Allison’s own anxiety, it felt like several hours had passed before they reached the bottom level.

The cellar—could it even be called that?—was dark and damp, and Allison shuddered as the group made their way down the hall that looked as if it belonged in a nineteenth century Parisian sewer system. Allison had been down here before, of course...that dark moment of hers as a child, when she’d made Vanya forget about her powers, and once more just earlier today, when she’d tried to undo the damage she’d wrought.

It was a miserable place. Allison could feel the palpable tension and fear between her siblings as they moved forward and approached Vanya’s prison. And when they all stood before it, barely a foot away, Allison knew she would have to be the one to open it.

She reached forward and grabbed the stone handle, pressing all of her weight into it, willing it to turn. It would have been so much easier if Luther was here, but stubborn as he was, that was not the case. Even more stubborn than Luther was the handle of the box prison, which still had not budged after two minutes.

“You just got your throat cut out, Allison,” Klaus said softly, breaking her concentration. “I mean...why doesn’t someone else try?”

“What, you think  _ you  _ can do it?” Diego smirked. Allison’s face was blank, her muscles too tired to do anything but look and listen, but inwardly, she smiled. If anything, these past week had allowed her siblings to heal, if just a little. Diego’s tease was just that: a lighthearted jest.

“Well, I might as well  _ try _ ,” Klaus muttered. He stepped up to the door and Allison moved aside, a movement catching the corner of her eye. “Vanya?” she whispered, pressing a hand flat to the bulletproof glass.

Her sister lay on the floor in the corner, hands splayed out at her sides. Vanya’s knuckles were caked in dried blood, her hair was tangled, and her face streaked with tears. She wasn’t moving.

“How hasn’t she escaped yet?” Five muttered darkly, coming to stand right behind Allison’s shoulder. On her other side, Klaus’s eyes were blank with confusion and a hint of sadness. Both of her brothers reeked horribly, Klaus of weed and Five of alcohol and limes.

Allison shoved them aside uncomfortably and pressed her face to the glass like a child, willing to be with her sister, at her side with a thousand apologies. Somewhere in her mind, some random instinct told her that if she could just get even closer to the glass, she could somehow transport to the other side of it. Drawing away, Allison cursed herself for her own stupidity and helplessness.

“Vanya,” she cried weakly, her sister’s name coming out choked and broken. It was as much as her vocal cords could handle before her voice sputtered out again. The rest of it could only be said in a regretful silence.  _ I’m so sorry. _

Allison knew that Vanya couldn’t hear her, and she bit her lip and her eyes began to water. She scrunched her face, eyelashes blinking back unwanted tears. She stepped out of the way and leaned against the dirty wall of the prison. Bitterness caked her thoughts like the cold slime that coated the sides of the wide hallway, and though she tried to push it aside, it just slipped deeper, congregating on her shoulders.

A loud, disgruntled scoff sounded to her right. “I’ll do it,” Five slurred, his thirteen-year-old body staggering back from where Allison had shoved him. It would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so dire and charged with emotional baggage.

Five banged his knuckles against the glass with surprising ferocity, brows drawn together in a line and eyes sharp as Diego’s daggers. “VANYA!” he shouted, causing Allison to flinch involuntarily.

Looking back to her siblings, she saw that they were just as taken aback as she was. Klaus’s hands had raised to his mouth, which was stretched in a startled grin, and his other fingers gripped his own green jacket tightly.

For the first time, Allison realized how utterly torn and broken Klaus looked. She’d focused all her attention on Vanya, on the neglect she had always bestowed upon her silent, brave, terrifying sister. She had tried to change all that, re-focus herself on her birth family when Patrick had divorced her, when Claire had been stolen from her.

She had failed, however, to see beyond the very base of the problem.

It wasn’t just Vanya that had been tormented mentally and emotionally in her childhood, not the only sibling who’d been cast aside, thrown out in the garbage can for street pickup like a package of expired goods. The rest of her siblings, and Allison, too, had faced that same sense of loneliness, pressure, and utter fruitlessness of childhood.

They were robbed, to put it simply, and that one decision had fucked them all.

Klaus, in this moment, was rather twitchy, his fingers dipping into the waistband of his low-sitting leggings and coming out wrapped around a phantom vial; hand clenching around nothingness with a tangible disappointment that radiated off him in waves.

She saw him flinch harshly when he realized that he had no dose of whatever shit it was he took and make a step towards the elevator, one pace down the long hall.

He didn’t get far. Allison stretched out her arm, Klaus’s chest falling against it with unspent pressure. “Get out of the way, Allison,” he muttered. “I have to pee.”

_ You can wait, _ she wanted to spit at him. Instead, she glared at him with what she hoped was an intimidating stare. His jaw ticked once but he settled back, and Allison immediately threw an arm around his shoulders. Klaus was stiff for a few milliseconds, but then it was gone; his tension melted and seemingly dissipated—or at least, most of it did. Allison could sense something stirring in her brother beneath the surface, something angry, boiling, and infused with immeasurable sadness.

That, of course, all happened in less than ten seconds. When Allison shook her head, blinking herself back to the present, Five was still banging senselessly on the bulletproof glass, mouth hanging slightly agape. God, he was drunker than she’d initially thought.

No one, however, could avoid such a racket for long. Allison sensed a change from within the metal prison, and when she craned her neck around to look through the ovular windowpane, she saw Vanya picking herself up from the ground in her corner, using one of the gigantic wall spikes as support.

Her sister’s long brown hair hung limply around her pale face, and her bloody knuckles rose in the air, hand pressing against the glass on the other side. Shaking, Vanya pushed a disgruntled Five aside until her palm was paired with Vanya’s, an almost electric pulse sparking through her at the near-contact.

After everything everyone in her family had been through, she just wanted peace for them all.

Allison sighed silently, her voice absent. It was really more of a long breath let go in a single moment than a true sigh. She dug around in her jacket pocket for her little yellow notepad, her fingertips relishing the feel of the smooth, crinkled paper.

With a steady hand—such a contrast to her thumping heart—Allison pulled out her pen as well, scratching a note across the page and lifting the pad to show Vanya the words written there.  _ CAN YOU OPEN IT? _

Vanya cocked her head. Here eyes were strangely blank, glazed over with a peculiar, austere  _ whiteness _ .

Allison scrambled to flip the page, pen grazing purposefully over the yellow paper again. Behind her, the other Hargreeves siblings were oddly silent. Each one of them was tuned into this moment; afraid that if they broke the silence, it seemed, something terrible would happen.

She raised her head to look at Vanya again, bringing the notepad with her.  _ NONE OF US ARE STRONG ENOUGH. _

She did not need to say what was unspoken. Again, Allison felt Luther’s absence with a sharp pang to her chest, a tightness in her throat, an itch in her eyes.

After a long minute, in which Vanya did nothing but blink slowly, almost  _ lazily _ , her sister nodded. The next second, the whole hall was shaking, bucketfuls of dust raining down from the ceiling in a haze, large chunks of plaster falling on the ground between them.

The Hargreeves siblings jumped back, crouching low on the ground, backing away nervously from the vibrating prison. With a final  _ crack  _ and  _ thud _ , Vanya was free.

The dust cleared slowly. Allison heard a low-pitched cough. That was probably Diego. She saw something flash next to her—a silver knife—and instantly raised her fist in a silent gesture.  _ Stop _ .

Vanya was standing where the front wall had once been, her eyes completely white and her head tilting upwards with a small smile. It unnerved Allison, but when Vanya’s gaze finally landed on her, that expression changed, morphed into something much smoother, something much more natural and content.

Vanya stepped forward towards them, shoes crunching on the shattered glass of the prison’s sole window. It had been thick and mighty and seemingly impenetrable, but now it was nothing more than the same shards that would result from a smashed beer bottle. The sound was unbearable and also oddly satisfying.

_ Sis _ , Allison tried to say, but no sound emitted from her mouth, lips only forming a barren shape around a word that wasn’t there. Still, Vanya saw her attempt, and walked to her, her teal turtleneck sweatshirt covered in excess dust and making her seem little more than a ghost.

Then suddenly, they were hugging, Allison’s arms wrapped tightly around her sister, breathing in the smell of her ragged hair and coughing a little as she took in dust through her nose. She smiled a bit at that, but when Vanya did too, she was taken quite aback.

Allison had believed that her sister’s imprisonment at her siblings’ hands would only foster bitter feelings between them. And she was sure that it had. But at least her powers and emotions wouldn’t explode today.

With a small moan of pain, Vanya collapsed in Allison’s arms, and Allison lifted the woman with a strength that surprised her.  _ I’ve got you, _ she wanted to say at that moment.  _ I’ll never allow anything like this to happen again. _

***

Vanya lay in a soft bed, unfamiliar and recognizable all at the same time. Her eyes open slowly, the soft sound of classical music fading from her dream and becoming reality; a small portable radio sat on her bedside table, playing a delightful violin concerto. Vanya sighed and relaxed into her pillow, losing herself in the first high F sharp of the concerto, the sound dissipating into a lower octave, then travelling upwards again.

After a moment, she realized that this was Rimsky-Korsakov echoing through the room, a mournful, ethereal tune that became more forgiving as it went. Fantasia on Two Russian Themes, Op. 33. The violin solo was almost a whine against the soft woodwinds and low undertones of the cellos. Vanya felt in this moment that the sound was almost  _ mocking  _ her—that is, until the rhythm picked up, and she found herself among the soft skips of the first flute.

The silence between each section of the movement put Vanya’s mind at ease, and as she realized where she was, tucked into her childhood bed, spare boxes of rosin and loose-leaf pages of sheet music scattered on the shelves, she frowned. It was not that the thought was unpleasant, just that she couldn’t remember the events that had preceded her lying on her back, staring at a pale pink ceiling with peeling paint.

Vanya supposed that Allison had brought her here. She knew her sister was the only one who had stood by her when Luther had locked her behind the thick steel wall and bulletproof glass that had simultaneously been her worst memory and most feared nightmare.

All of Vanya’s teenage life and into adulthood, she’d been exorbitantly afraid of that moldy, underground room.  _ No _ , she’d had to remind herself throughout the years as she got older.  _ It’s not a room; it’s a cell. _ She’d told herself that she had no reason to be afraid of it, but young Vanya—and the Vanya that existed  _ now _ —simply couldn’t help it.

The concerto swelled, and Vanya remembered the cold. The dampness. The  _ claustrophobia _ . The feeling of all the air being pressed out of her body, the feeling of not being able to breathe. She’d had nightmares about the spiked walls closing in on her, the sharp points protruding into her thighs and arms and the small of her back. The base of her throat. She’d had nightmares about Grace and Hargreeves leaving her in there for hours—and that part, at least, was true—only returning when Vanya was so stiff and sore that she could barely open her mouth to eat or take a painful sip of lukewarm water.

She’d had dreams about Leonard coming to rescue her, a knight in shining armor, the sweat of his back highly appealing for some flummoxing reason as he would lift her into his arms, whispering promises into her ear. Those, Vanya thought, had been the worst of them.

She’d been wrong, of course.

Vanya searched her brain, willing it to find answers, but only saw the fresh horror that her mind had created for her, a poisonous web of her old fears and her new, and perhaps even those of her future. This time, Allison had been with her. This time, her sister had reached for her, lending a hand to her as Vanya slipped from a crumbling cliff, Leonard waiting to catch her.

Vanya had looked up at Allison, and then back down to the man that had promised her everything. She stretched out her fingers, mere inches from Allison’s grasp, and with a strike of pure, unadulterated nausea, her sister’s throat was cut, and Vanya fell into the pit, helplessly scrabbling at the loose pebbles along the cliff’s wall.

But it hadn’t been a pit after all, just her same old prison. At this, Vanya had begun to wonder if the dark room with its pulsating, roiling  _ blankness  _ was simply a conjuration of her imagination. But it had felt real. And it  _ was _ real.

Now, Vanya touched a finger loosely to her nose, her eyelids, her other hand, skimming over the bruised knuckles. “Allison?” she croaked. “Al—” She broke into a heavy coughing, which quickly became tears that poured shamelessly from her eyes and down past the sides of her jaw. She didn’t even have the strength of will to wipe them away.

Her sister came into the room the next moment, eyes exhausted, yet terrified, lip trembling. Seeing her this way, Vanya couldn’t help but let out a choked sob. She’d only ever seen Allison like this once before, on TV, when a camera had caught a snippet of her true face, utterly broken, as Allison had exited the courtrooms after the custody battle. It hadn’t been much, but what Vanya had seen was enough to make her feel guilty for writing the family exposé, not that she regretted doing it. She had hoped, then, that her sister would never wear that expression again.

Vanya’s eyes drifted a little lower to the bandage covering Allison’s throat, the little strip of white chaining her attention away from everything else. “A-Allison…” Vanya murmured quietly. She felt another round of tears sting her eyes. “This is a-all my fault—”

Her sister stopped her with a quick shushing motion of her index finger to her lips, crossing the room to sit down on the twin bed next to her. She pulled out the little yellow notepad from inside her jacket and searched around for a pen.

“Oh,” Vanya muttered to herself, scrambling upwards to search the drawer in her bedside table, but Allison held her back with a long arm, pressing her shoulders back against the mattress. A smooth brown hand caressed her head, pushing a sweaty lock of thin brown hair aside.

Allison soon found a pen and clicked it, the point scratching across the pad’s thin paper.  _ MY FAULT _ , the pad read in big, all-caps lettering.

“No, I lashed out,” Vanya protested, her voice low and filled with a deep anger. “ _ I’m _ the one who almost fucking killed you!  _ All  _ of you!” She shut her eyes tight, willing herself to be calm as the items around them began to vibrate, and one box of rosin fell to the floor and shattered, little clear-brown pieces spread on the ground like smoky quartz. “I would have destroyed the entire Academy. The world, if I could have.”

Allison was silent, her countenance unreadable.

“I know,” came a soft, boyish voice from the hallway. Vanya turned to see Five stepping in, his hands stuffed into his shorts’ pockets. “You would have been the ruination of everyone.”

“I’m sorry?” Vanya asked, unsure of his meaning. Her head hurt  _ so much _ . In front of her, Allison shot their brother a very nasty look.

Five only shrugged, clearly unruffled. “You’re very powerful, you know, Vanya,” he mused, leaning against the doorframe. “The old man was so fucking terrified of you.” He chuckled sardonically, eyes roving around the room. “Look at all this.” His tone was almost pitying, and Vanya couldn’t stand it.

“What’s wrong with it?” she shot back, voice cold. The Rimsky-Korsakov concerto had ended, and now the room was doused in silence, the only sound being the slight hum of the CD player as the disc inside of it ended its course.

“There’s nothing  _ wrong  _ with it,” Five replied, clearly at odds with the words coming out of his mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with being a lizard. Unless you were born to be a hawk.” At this, his eyes flashed brightly as if the sun had reflected off of them like a mirror.

His eyes. They were the only part of him that reflected his true age, the eyes of someone who’d seen the world and grossly hated it. Not the eyes of a thirteen-year-old boy. But at that moment, his eyes seemed young again. Excited.

“What does that even mean?” Vanya asked, though, in all actuality, she didn’t care much. “I’m not some sort of killer, or—or predator!” She cocked her head to the side, and her neck sent a small sharp pain into her head in protest. “That’s  _ your  _ job, Five.”

He snorted. “ _ Was _ my job,” he corrected, finally removing himself from the doorway and going to sit in the chair in the corner, a dark, stiff brown wood covered with a tasseled pillow. “I’m done with that shit.”

Somehow, she didn’t quite believe him.

Vanya caught a flash of yellow in the corner of her eye, but it was only Allison lifting the pad of paper again. She herself couldn’t read what it said, but when Five registered the words, his eyes darkened and he slumped back in the chair. “She’s fine,” he scoffed.

Allison pursed her lips. Another scribble. This time Vanya could make out the words before her sister flipped the notepad to show Five.  _ CHANGE SUBJECT, OR LEAVE _ .

Five rolled his eyes but seemingly acquiesced. “I’m sorry about everything, Vanya,” he finally said in a soft voice. Vanya stared at him. It was very unlike Five to admit anything of the sort. “We were all Hargreeves’s puppets,” her brother continued with a sigh, head tilting up to grimace at the peeling paint that hung in chunks from the ceiling. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that we didn’t do anything wrong. We were little shitheads to you, and you didn’t deserve that.”

Vanya opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out, so she closed it awkwardly again. Five’s mouth quirked in the smallest of grins, and at that, Vanya couldn’t help but smile in return. “Thank you,” she finally said, surprised at her own willingness to forgive.

Or was she forgiving them at all? Vanya thought, perhaps, that she just appreciated the apology, even if it couldn’t change anything. So she said just that.

Allison eyed her thoughtfully, then turned to face the boy sitting in the chair. Well. He was not  _ really _ a boy. In fact, Vanya felt a wave of mild vertigo pass over her every time Five spoke, his harsh syllables and cold eyes providing such a dichotomy to his physical stature.

Allison and Five exchanged a furtive look for a second before her sister turned back to Vanya, a worried crease between her eyebrows. It was a long, tense moment before Allison spoke. “Five’s theory,” she began slowly, “is that you would have caused the apocalypse.”

Vanya felt a laugh burgeon in her throat, but at the serious stares of her siblings, their lips pressed in thin lines, Five’s jaw ticking slightly, she pushed the sound back down. “ _ What _ ?” she asked instead.

Five only shrugged, and Vanya felt a prick of annoyance at the noncommittal gesture. “The old man brought about his own downfall,” he said flatly. “Thought he’d raise us, kids with these cool superpowers, saving the world and whatnot—”

“He said that?”

“According to Klaus,” Five muttered, eyes drifting to the ceiling again, with raised eyebrows. “Although...I’m not sure how much we can count on  _ him _ .”

“I was called?”

The brother in question drifted into the room lazily, still wearing that same ratty old vest the color of green camo. The bedroom was starting to get a little tight, and Vanya sucked in an imperceptible breath.

Five turned, his eyes sharpening in irritation. “What are you doing here?”

“You can’t just talk about me and then not expect me to want to hear what it is you’re saying,” Klaus said with a light hum. He tapped his forefinger on something that hung around his neck on a thin metal chain, rectangular and worn. A  _ dog tag _ ?

Klaus suddenly caught her eye and blinked, hastily shoving the tags under his shirt. “What’s all the hullabaloo about?”

Five sighed greatly, a young, unscarred hand dragging down his face. “Nothing,” he snapped. “The apocalypse is over. We stopped it.”

There was an unsettling edge to his voice, and Vanya sensed that there was something not quite right. “Are...you sure?” she asked in a low voice, causing all eyes to land on her again. Vanya gulped; she wasn’t used to having her siblings care about anything she said, much less thought. “I can’t feel—”

She stopped abruptly, cutting herself off in a bout of frustration. She didn’t know how to express what she wanted to say. How could she explain that there was something out there that was simply... _ unbalanced _ ?

She would have to corner Five later when she could actually move.

In the brief silence that followed, broken only by the scratching of Vanya’s pen on Allison’s notepad, Allison held up the words she’d written.  _ LET VANYA REST. TALK LATER _ .

Klaus was the first to nod, giving Vanya a little smile as he pivoted on his heel and returned down the hall, a few floorboards creaking as he went. Five left next, the pillow he’d been sitting on falling from the chair to the floor. He didn’t bother to pick it up, only scowled as he followed Klaus.

Now, only Allison was left, a regretful, bitter smile on her face that looked and felt like lemonade that hadn’t been sweetened enough and still had too much stringy zest. She patted Vanya’s hand lightly, before hesitating, and finally leaning over to give her sister an unexpected hug. Vanya felt a tad of wetness touch her cheek and pressed her lips together.

When Allison pulled away, she drew a sleeve across her face in a not-so-subtle attempt to hide the tears that had collected there. Although her sister couldn’t vocalize anything, Vanya could practically hear the unspoken words.  _ See you in a bit, sis. I love you. _

With one final smile, Allison shut the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote "there's nothing wrong with being a lizard unless you were meant to be a hawk" comes from the Grisha Trilogy by Leigh Bardugo! :)


	2. perspective

perspective [17:37](https://archive.org/download/1.-precipice_202008/2.%20Perspective.mp3)

**TEXT TRANSCRIPTION**

\--

Vanya’s love of music had begun long before she had ever picked up Reginald Hargreeves’s violin. She was six when she found her first Bach CD buried deep in the bowels of the Academy, traversing one of the messier rooms in the mansion that Hargreeves liked to hide from the public eye.

She had picked up the little plastic container, fiddling with it for a moment before finally undoing the thin clasp. As Vanya picked up the dusty disc inside, blowing on it lightly, she had felt something exciting fill the air, a promise that felt like it belonged to  _ her _ .

She had rushed back upstairs to her room and laid the CD with its rectangular clear plastic covering reverently on her dresser. She’d had no way to play it then, but the very next day, she’d gone down to talk to Grace, who’d been serenely washing dishes with a blank smile on her perfect face.

“Mom?” Vanya asked, her fingers fiddling with the plastic clasp.

Grace turned, tilted her head. “Why, hello, dear,” she said pleasantly. “What is it?”

Vanya swallowed. She was so used to sinking inwardly upon herself, distancing herself from everyone and closing her mind to anything that made her sad or angry. Except the problem was, it never worked.

Vanya was  _ always  _ sad and angry.

After a moment of hesitation, she lifted the CD case, and Grace took it with an expression of mild interest, her red lips still slightly curved in that perpetual state of pleasantry. “What’s this, darling?”

“I want to listen to it,” Vanya said quietly, her voice coming out like a squeaky hinge. “Can I...get a CD player?”

She held her breath, trying to push aside that little spark of hope. She was never allowed anything; why would that change now? But—

“Of course, dear,” Grace said, patting Vanya on the shoulder. “Why don’t you and I go out to buy one today? Pogo can care for the children.”

_ Are you serious? _ Vanya had wanted to ask, but she’d kept her mouth shut, lips sealed, never placing her trust in anything. She simply stood, there, arms hanging awkwardly at her sides, as limp as her straight brown hair.

“What are you waiting for?” Grace asked with a little laugh. Slipping the CD and its case into her apron pocket, she headed towards the door and held out her hand.

A throat cleared from behind them, loud and pompous. Expected, if Vanya had been telling herself the truth. “ _ Where _ are you going?” asked Reginald Hargreeves, standing stock-stiff in the middle of the hall, thin fingers adjusting his monocle.

“We’re going to buy Vanya a little CD player for her studies,” Grace replied without missing a beat, eyes bright and cheeks full.

_ For her studies? _

Vanya had never known Grace to lie. Her mother seemed to be manufactured in her goodness and obedience and general positive attitude. She stared up at her, entranced by the fixed smile against the pale skin and perfectly coiffed blonde curls.

Hargreeves was not impressed. “I will have one of the housekeepers do that,” he said stiffly, taking Grace by the wrist and pulling her back down the hall in the direction of his study. “Number Seven, go to your room.”

Deflating a little, Vanya plodded back towards the staircase, beginning her trek back up the flights of stairs. What had she expected? Grace was no more than a pawn; even at six Vanya knew this. And now, she didn’t even have her prized Bach CD anymore.

She’d flopped onto her bed with a sigh, feeling tears sting her eyes and roll down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop seeing the clutter of emotions in her father’s eyes as he looked at her,  _ appraised  _ her. Always calculating. She had detected annoyance, certainly, anger, and something else that Vanya couldn’t decipher. He  _ always  _ looked at her that way, and every time it made Vanya shrink a little inside.

But the next morning, Vanya had woken up to the sound of softly playing classical music. She smiled, sitting up slowly, then frowned when she realized that she hadn’t even undressed into her nightgown.

“Vanya?”

Allison had stood before her, lips curved in a secretive grin as she tapped her nails against the doorframe. “Can I come in?”

Vanya nodded just barely, face blank.

Allison approached her, going over to sit beside her on the bed and pushing back a chunk of her hair. “I pleaded your case with Dad,” she said, eyes flitting to Vanya’s with a barely perceptible wink.

“Pleaded?” Vanya had repeated, brows raising. “Or—?”

“You know what I mean.” Allison smiled, and she nodded her head to the spot across the room from which the classical music was playing. Brows scrunching, Vanya followed her gaze.

The CD player sat on her dresser, white with light pink designs curling around the edges. It was new and crisp, and Vanya adored it. She hopped out of bed, walked over to it, and was surprised to find a stack of CDs in little plastic cases stacked neatly on her dresser right next to the device.

It became her refuge during the years in which her siblings were trained and she wasn’t. Vanya had always known why; her lack of powers would have held her back during a mission, and even when she sat down in her room, listening to the newest symphonies she’d acquired, or when she took her violin from its hook on the wall to practice, she couldn’t help but feel that deep sting of resentfulness.

***

Allison drummed her fingers lazily as she leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee pot to finish brewing. It was late morning now, but the siblings in the kitchen of the Umbrella Academy couldn’t have known that; the basement was always cast in a perpetual state of gloomy semi-darkness.

“Oh,” said a low voice heavily inflected by sleep. “Good morning.”

Allison turned, feeling her heart sink when she saw Luther lumber in through the doorway and settle into one of the kitchen table’s wooden chairs. Primly, she pivoted stiltedly back towards the counter, staring at the coffee machine so forcefully that she was sure it would burst with the pressure of her gaze.

“What, so you’re not going to talk to me?” Luther asked, a low scoff undertoning his irritation.

Whether she liked it or not, the sound of his voice never failed to call her attention, and reluctantly, Allison pulled her eyes away from the coffee pot, which was now beginning to smell rich and almost ready to pour. She watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, the gesture painfully familiar.

He’d always done that when he’d been simultaneously amused and exasperated by her.

Finally, Allison caught his eye, tilted her head to one side, and thinned her lips to a single line. Slowly, she saw the understanding creep into his visage, and soon, Luther was grimacing as he let out a frustrated groan. “I’m sorry,” he lamented with that same vulnerable and honest tone he always carried. “I...didn’t think.”

She gave him a look, and she knew that he would know what that meant. Of  _ course _ he hadn’t  _ thought _ ; he never did. And even if she could speak at the moment, she wouldn’t.

The silence didn’t last for long, as soon after, Diego sauntered into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together agitatedly. “We slept in far too late,” he muttered as he sat down across from Luther, who immediately drew his hands from the tabletop and settled them awkwardly in his lap.

“I think we needed it,” was Luther’s only reply, the words coming out strained.

Diego let out a low laugh. “No, brother,” he said, lips emphasizing every syllable. “ _ We _ needed it. Not you. We were downstairs trying to stop the apocalypse and save our sister, while you—” Allison saw him shut his eyes and lean back in his seat. “—You didn’t even give a single fuck if we lived or died, failed or succeeded.”

Though Allison hated to admit it, Diego was right. She’d been furious with him for his treatment of Vanya, and  _ maybe  _ that was something she could forgive in the long run, but what was she to say of the way he’d treated his entire family?

After a few tense moments, Diego stood, walked over to the cabinet, and took out mugs for the three of them. His facial muscles were taught, but at least he was calm. Allison shot him a fleeting hint of a smile, and to her surprise, he returned it.

A minute more and the machine beeped, making Allison flinch. Carefully, she poured the coffee into the three mugs, leaving some behind in the pot for those who were still asleep.

Diego’s movements were stiff and formal as he handed the mug to Luther, but when he returned to the counter, his face returned to that odd half-smile he’d been attempting before. Allison returned it, a hint of confusion alighting her features, but within moments, her brother’s face crumpled into tight, quiet sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” he burbled through choked tears, clutching onto Allison’s knit sweater. Though bemused, Allison held him tightly in a close embrace, letting him cry on her shoulder.

“They killed her, Alli,” Diego whimpered softly against her sweater, wet tears and perhaps a bit of saliva leaking onto the fabric there. “Those fucking bastards killed her, and I watched her bleed out on that filthy fucking carpet and there was nothing I could do—”

He broke off, succumbing to sobs once again. Luther shot Allison a bewildered look, but she understood. Diego had warned her that the police were after him; he’d made her leave him. They must have assumed that he killed whoever it was that he was talking about now.

_ WHO KILLED WHO? _ Allison wrote tentatively after a moment, not wanting to upset him.

Diego bristled visibly once he’d read it, eyes hardening at the whatever the thought must have been that was now forming inside his head. “Hazel and Cha-Cha,” he growled, each of their names a lightning bolt of pure fury from his tongue. “They killed Patch.”

“Eudora Patch?” Luther asked.

Diego nodded tersely, not meeting either of their eyes as he stepped away and turned to stare out of the small, grimy kitchen window.

“Don’t be daft,” drawled a high, boyish voice. They all whirled around to find Five marching into the kitchen, shoving Allison aside to reach the coffee pot and extra mug that she’d grabbed from the cabinet. He poured himself a cup and took a long, deep gulp of its contents, raising his eyebrows when he’d set it back down on the counter. “Not half-bad,” he said quietly, appraising Allison. She rolled her eyes.

“You know that Hazel had nothing to do with it,” Five continued, casually drumming his fingers on the linoleum countertop. “So  _ desperate  _ for revenge, Diego. That’s the least of our worries.”

“DO YOU KNOW HOW THIS  _ FEELS _ ?” Diego bellowed then, the sound bursting from him like something left in the microwave too long. “I feel  _ dead _ !” he cried, hands bunching at his sides, spit flying from his mouth, countenance screwed in an indescribable expression. “I’m  _ failing  _ her! She died in vain and here I am, having some nice  _ coffee with my family _ !”

The silence that followed was even more deafening than Diego’s yelling. Five looked briefly at Allison warily before dropping his gaze to the cup of coffee he was holding, then taking another deep swig. Allison could tell that Luther was trying to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Her own anger was still too hot to be soothed.

They stayed that way for a moment before another of their damaged cohort wandered in, Diego having dropped into a seat, head in his hands. Vanya shuffled along one counter, physically and noticeable avoiding the rest of them, making her way to the coffee machine, where she took a mug and drank the scalding dark liquid without even waiting for it to cool—or at least blowing on it.

“Are you alright?” someone asked, voice gruff and still tinged by the mark of sleep. Allison’s head shot up; Luther had pulled back his chair with a loud scrape and was now making his way to where she and her sister were standing. Was this some attempt to win her back?

Or maybe he was just trying to make amends.

“I’m—f-fine,” Vanya replied shakily, stepping aside so that she didn’t have to touch him. It was a sort of maneuver around one of Luther’s massive arms, and Allison felt that tinge of annoyance strike her again. Luther couldn’t expect to be welcomed back into their fold that easily. If he did think that, well, he was certainly a fool.

Vanya sat down at the table at last, farthest from where Luther had been sitting before. She gulped the coffee down far too quickly, then stood again and hurried towards the doorway.

_ Wait!  _ Allison tried to call, but she still couldn’t—her voice only came out as a hoarse, strangled cough.

Then, a hand was on her shoulder. “Vanya, wait!” Five called. At the sound of his voice, her sister turned. Allison saw her eyes then; they were a pale bluish-white, just as they had been when—

“Are you alright?” another of their siblings was saying. Klaus had finally awoken, and now he was dawdling in the hall with only a head peeking into the kitchen.

“I said I’m _ fine! _ ” Vanya yelled sharply, causing a teacup to fall off one of the shelves and smash furiously onto the counter, small shards skidding across the surface. “I just have a concert today, okay? So can I please go now? Or are you guys going to continue being the little shits you always have been?”

As she spoke, her eyes slowly drifted back into normal color again, that unnatural, sterile white fading to a dull brown.

Allison raised her eyebrows. She had a concert, and she hadn’t told anyone? But really, who could blame her? The siblings of the Academy had never cared about Vanya in the past, and Allison knew that Vanya had no reason to think they would now.

“We should all go!” a lively voice suddenly popped up. Klaus’s normally wavery speech was full of clarity and determination, his hands clasping each other around that odd chain with the dog tags on the end of it. Allison simply  _ stared _ ...but really—what harm could it do?

“Well, okay,” Five finally said, his high voice filled with that typical inflection of his. Allison  _ knew  _ that inflection; she knew that it meant that Five was calculating, and Five was  _ always  _ calculating.

From where he stood, Diego gave a loud groan. “And we’re just supposed to let those assassins out there get us, and let Cha-Cha get away, huh?”

“Trust me,” Five replied, eyes never straying from Vanya’s face. Oh, he was scheming, alright.

But it wasn’t like the siblings really had anything else to do, so they reluctantly let Vanya go, Allison watching her leave with a tiny knot of anxiety still tangled within the bottom of her stomach.

“She’ll be fine,” Five assured her, his voice strangely relaxed as he gazed up at Allison. She swallowed painfully—though in her current state, swallowing was  _ always  _ painful—and looked away, shaking her head.

“We’ll be there in an hour to watch the concert,” Five continued, stuffing his hands into his pockets, cocking his head to one side, appraising her. He never seemed to stop analyzing, and Allison almost felt bad for him. He’d had to grow up far too quickly by himself in a desolate wasteland, and then he’d been turned into a ruthless killer. Again, Allison felt that unexpected twinge of pity.

“She’s an adult; she can handle herself,” Diego added. He was fidgety and looked rather pained, eyes clouded with perpetual pent-up anger. It was good, Allison suddenly thought, that he’d been expelled from the police force.

_ BUT IS SHE? ARE  _ _ WE _ _? _ Allison wrote, holding up the notepad to show her siblings.  _ None  _ of them had grown up properly. That, out of everything, had become very clear to her in the past week.

None of her siblings seemed to have any response.

***

An hour later, the five of them—six including Ben—were sitting in the back row of a concert theater, watching the Orchestra Verdammten tune, Vanya leading them. Her suit was a crisp black, smarty tailored to fit her small frame, and Klaus thought that she belonged up there. He was happy for her—after all this shit she’d been through, Vanya fucking deserved it.

His sister sat, and after a beat, the conductor emerged, tall, thin, and pale, with a shock of frizzy white hair atop his wrinkly head. The entire orchestra rose as he strolled purposefully across the stage, only sitting once he had made his bow. Vanya, the concertmaster, struck up a low, mournful tune, her bow pulled along the G and D strings as if by an invisible force. After a few notes, the entire strings section joined in, creating a hauntingly beautiful and ominous melody.

A soft breeze swept over them as the orchestra continued to play, almost like the physical manifestation of a sound wave. “She’s really good, isn’t she?” whispered Ben from where he was sitting beside Klaus, his hood for once pulled down.

Klaus nodded slowly. It felt as if he was in a haze, the slowly crescendoing music rising in pitch and tempo. It was something beautiful and exciting, Vanya’s solo rising above every other sound, and the ethereal echoing wind spreading across the entire theater. Klaus sighed and slouched back in his seat, closing his eyes. He’d never really given much credit to classical music, but  _ this _ —this was beyond divine.

He wished that Dave could be here with him.

Instead, he said, “I never knew that Vanya’s powers could be so...beautiful.” Beside him, Allison nodded gently, her lips curling into a sad smile. “I’m glad that we’re here.”

“It was a good idea, for once,” Ben muttered, shaking his head with slight amusement.

“Thank you, brother,” Klaus replied. He glanced over at where Luther was sitting beside Allison, his fingers attempting to reach hers on the armrest.  _ That  _ gave him pause. There were so many things about him and Allison that just seemed...not right, especially now.

Allison, at least, didn’t seem to be having it. She slid her hand slowly from the armrest and settled it into her lap, eyebrows twitching uncomfortably.

“Let them deal with that, Klaus,” Ben said softly from beside him. “That’s their personal business.”

“I know,” Klaus said with a sigh. “I just…”

He just. He just  _ what _ ? Klaus didn’t know. Whatever it was, it would be sorted out eventually. And he had his own problems to deal with. They all did.


	3. voice

voice [11:08](https://ia601509.us.archive.org/11/items/1.-precipice_202008/3.%20Voice.mp3)

**TEXT TRANSCRIPTION**

\--

Luther was bone tired when he returned home from the concert that evening. It wasn’t that he’d done a lot of strenuous exercise; he was simply exhausted from having been around people all day. After being on the moon by himself for such a long time, Luther found that being in the company of others took a drain on him that he hadn’t expected.

He fumbled with the Academy’s key and lock before finally swinging the double doors open, his siblings filing in behind him. Vanya was last, her eyes filled with exhaustion from the concert, and yet her face surprisingly bright and full of color for once. He supposed that all these years of holding her powers back had taken some type of toll.

Not that he thought she could handle them.

Luther had made his opinion on the ‘Vanya matter’ very clear, but none of his siblings seemed to care. Allison, most of all, had been the most vehemently on Vanya’s side, that they should train her and invoke her back into the family. And Luther…

Although he didn’t care to admit it, he was sure that the only reason he’d acquiesced to letting Vanya out was  _ because  _ of Allison. Whatever she thought of him, he knew that he was still irrevocably in love with her, and he’d do anything to get back in her good graces. He didn’t know how she felt about him. Luther wasn’t sure if Allison’s constant rejections were due to her residual anger over the Vanya incident or simply because she didn’t love him anymore.

It was stupid, really. Allison had moved on from him years ago, when she’d begun to date other actors and eventually settled down with Patrick. They’d even had a child, for crying out loud.

Luther had never moved on. He’d been  _ stuck  _ at the Academy and  _ stuck  _ in his one worldly affection and  _ stuck  _ in his own failures. Even now, he didn’t have a purpose in life except for living beyond the day and making it through the next.

Something rushed past him, distracting him from his thoughts, the movement accompanied by the shrieking sound of breaking glass. A thousand transparent sharp pieces flew at the figure in front of him—Pogo—who immediately flung his hairy hands in front of his face and threw himself to the side.

“POGO!” Klaus screamed, but Luther was already there, shielding their primate caretaker from the rest of the onslaught. In the corner of his eye, he saw Vanya, her eyes perfectly round and whitened, the shaking chandelier of the main hall reflecting in her gaze.  _ Shit _ —it was  _ always  _ her!

A brown hand snatched at Vanya’s sleeve, shaking her roughly and pulling her attention away from Pogo and Luther. Allison was mouthing words pointlessly at her sister, whose eyes were still blazing with that unfamiliar hatred.

“What are you even  _ doing _ ?” Luther growled, breathing hard as he pulled away and the glass shards fell harmlessly to the tile floor with little crashes. “Pogo has always taken care of us!”

“He is a liar,” said Vanya hoarsely, her eyes fading to brown again. “He is an enabler, Dad’s little pet from the moment he came into this world.”

“Don’t say that,” Klaus protested, but Five, on the other hand, shrugged in seeming agreement. “She’s not wrong,” he muttered with a small huff of laughter.

“Even if that’s true, so what?” Luther asked, voice rising. “You guys act like Dad was some evil, horrible  _ monster— _ ”

“And he fucking  _ was _ !” Five interrupted, an incredulous smile on his young face, as if after all this time, Luther should have known better. “But all of that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Vanya just tried to kill him. And he’s bleeding.”

Luther glanced back at Pogo, who still hadn’t managed to speak a word, and who was, in fact, covered in little gashes. “Shit,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll—”

“I’ll take him to Mom,” Diego said abruptly, stepping forward. The two of them left unceremoniously, leaving Luther with Allison, Five, Klaus, and Vanya.

“What was all that about?” Luther repeated once they’d gone. “Why’d you do that, Vanya? So what if he lied a couple of times.”

“He knew about my powers. He kept me in the dark, suppressed—” She broke off, a choking sound escaping her mouth as she began to sob. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Luther snapped, becoming even more incensed as Klaus placed a supposedly soothing hand on his broad shoulder, his brother’s other arm making odd lowering gestures as if Luther was some sort of toddler. “Enlighten me.”

“It was like a heavy weight, all the time,” said a soft, hoarse voice, yet Vanya hadn’t spoken. Allison stepped forward from behind her sister, massaging the base of her throat gently. Her speech seemed to be causing her a lot of pain, but she didn’t stop. “I wanted to use my powers so bad, because it was like it  _ hurt _ , Luther. It physically  _ hurt _ .” As if on cue, Allison’s voice cracked, and she grimaced in pain.

“Shh,” Vanya whispered, patting her sister’s back lightly. “Don’t talk.” She turned back to Luther, her eyes becoming steely once more. “Allison is right, though. I felt like someone had placed a large boulder on the very top of my head, all centered in one spot. I always had headaches. The medication Pogo and Dad made me take only made it worse.”

“And mom?” Luther asked with a slight sneer. “You think she should die, too?”

“She’s a robot,” Vanya replied bluntly. “She didn’t have a choice. But Pogo did, and he chose to hurt me.”

“You really think he had a choice?” Five asked softly, the sound of his voice unexpected and oddly silencing to the group. They were quiet, then, the only sound being the far-off steps of Diego and Pogo farther down the hall, or on the stairs, somewhere in this large house of theirs.

“Everyone has a choice,” Vanya finally whispered with darkened eyes, and with that, she pivoted sharply on her heel, retreating to the bedroom wing of the Academy and taking her violin case with her.

***

It had been a long while since Cha-Cha had taken a break. The feeling was unsettling to her, like an itch from a poisonous plant that spread over one’s skin. It  _ gnawed  _ at her, a mixture of nausea and fear and disgust all pooled into one ugly pot on an even uglier stove.

She couldn’t understand why Hazel had gone off and left her like that. Had they not been partners, had they not been...together,  _ always _ ? Over their years spent with each other, Cha-Cha’s mind had built up this sense of security within her, and now that it was gone, she didn’t feel sad, or even angry anymore. All that fury and rage that had served as her fuel in their last moments and now it had been used, the leftover pieces simply evaporating into the humid summer air, leaving her with no energy left.

No energy to work, to scream, to cry. None at all, except to nurse her ugly, bloody wound that she’d had to self inflict in order to escape Hazel’s handcuffs.

She was throwing a one-person pity party for herself when she heard the familiar swoop of a heavy iron can being deposited in her hotel room refrigerator.  _ What the fuck? _

Cha-Cha reluctantly pulled herself off the double bed with a long groan and a drawn-out “You have  _ got  _ to be kidding me,” stumbling over to the minifridge and yanking it open with her good hand. A pale bronze-y cylinder was sitting there in all its pretend innocence, her name pasted onto it with a white sticky note.

Normally, Cha-Cha would have felt a rush of relief when she heard that sound and saw that device, accompanied by that settling sense of purpose. At the very least, doing her job gave her a cushy living and distraction from Hazel’s constant nearness, and at its best, being a time-traveling assassin was something that Cha-Cha genuinely  _ enjoyed _ .

But after all the shit that had gone down, Cha-Cha didn’t give a fuck about any of that anymore. She’d failed in all her efforts to prevent the Umbrella Academy from stopping the apocalypse, and the Commission was burnt to a crisp, along with the Handler—so alongside her irritation and approaching sense of dread, Cha-Cha was utterly confused.

Lip curling, she reached for the cylinder and turned it over in her hand. It was old and banged-up, several dings and scratches displayed along the edges. What really caught Cha-Cha’s attention, however, was that the cylinder was slightly rounder and uneven at the edges, as if it had been melted and remolded by human hands.

“Huh,” Cha-Cha muttered. “This must be one of those older models.” These were instruction devices that hadn’t been used for a century—was it a century? She never managed to tell the time properly, living in many places and periods in her life.

With a sigh, Cha-Cha finally popped open the lid and reached inside with her damaged hand, wincing as she did so. She pulled out a long slip of curled-up paper and took in the instructions printed in Courier New typeface there. “Terminate Allison Hargreeves,” Cha-Cha read aloud slowly, then gave a loud curse, tossing the old device and its accompanying paper instruction on the hotel bed. Hadn’t she had enough of that goddamn meddling family?

“I have further instructions for you,” said a cruel, slimy voice from behind her. Cha-Cha spun around, but there was no one there, only the tossed-about hotel room pillows casting disquieting shadows on the wall in the odd half-light.

“Who’s there?” Cha-Cha asked sharply, her good hand flying immediately to her pistol and drawing it in one natural movement. “I’m armed, and I  _ will  _ shoot!”

The voice only laughed, a grimy, oily sound. “You won’t do that,” it—he?—finally decided, the words not much more than a mere hiss.

“And why is that?”

A pause. “Because I’m your boss. The CEO of the Commission, if you will.” It sounded like a joke, though Cha-Cha knew it wasn’t.

“You’re the Commissioner?” she breathed, unable to keep the awe from seeping into her voice. “ _ The _ Commissioner?” The one who the Handler had supposedly answered to, the one who funded the Commission and kept it going even when each Handler had died.  _ That  _ Commissioner.

The disembodied voice did not respond, though to be honest, Cha-Cha hadn’t really expected it to. When it did speak, it was on another subject entirely: “I want you to kill Allison Hargreeves in the most gruesome way that you can possibly think of,” it asserted, “and I want you to do this in front of her sister Vanya.”

“What reason do I even have to do this?” Cha-Cha probed, her irritation beginning to show in the micromovements of her fingers and her pursed lips. “The Commission is gone, the Handler’s dead…what’s in it for me?”

“Anything you want,” the voice replied matter-of-factly. “The truth is, you’re the only available Agent left that isn’t cavorting off with some old doughnut woman. Most of them got blown up when Five destroyed the Commission’s headquarters, and the few left are struggling to fulfill the vast amount of jobs that are in need of completing since we are in such a shortage of resources. You are also one of the best.”

She wasn’t sure if that was true anymore, but Cha-Cha didn’t say anything. For once, she was more than a mere cog; she had  _ leverage _ , and she would not hesitate to use it.

“Aside from healing my wrist, I want the Handler’s position once this is done,” Cha-Cha announced, throwing as much assertiveness into her tone as she could. “And all the associated benefits.” She paused. “I also want to kill Hazel.”

“Consider it a deal,” the voice agreed, departing soon after.

Cha-Cha sighed a long, relieved sigh and flopped onto the mattress, depositing her gun back into its holster with a sure grip. She couldn’t say she was happy, but she had a purpose, and she would have comfort and power once this was over. Who needed happiness, anyway?


	4. control

control [21:03](https://ia601509.us.archive.org/11/items/1.-precipice_202008/4.%20Control.mp3)

**TEXT TRANSCRIPTION**

\--

A few mornings later, the sun shone brightly, prompting Five to persuade his siblings to go outside and eat breakfast in the garden. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life,” he said, “it’s that a sunny day is fucking wonderful, especially when you’ve been pelted with icy rain for weeks on end.”

“Did...that happen to you?” Vanya asked with raised eyebrows, her voice barely inflecting in that typical flat tone of hers.

Five nodded, scowling. “We had a hard time finding shelter the first few days,” he muttered. “Soaked to the bone, and freezing, too. But once we found an abandoned parking garage, the concrete provided at least a little comfort.” He shrugged. “Such is the way of things in the apocalypse.”

Vanya let out a breath, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you had to go through all of that.” Then, she frowned, eyes narrowing and chin tilting upwards. “But who is  _ we _ ?”

“Me and Dolores,” Five replied without missing a beat. He stirred his black coffee gently, eyes squinting as he stared into the sky. As the soft breeze ruffled his hair, he sighed. “She’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry,” Vanya lamented, placing a hand on his across the outdoor porch table. In one of the other seats, Luther looked up from his newspaper and snorted. “Dolores is a mannequin, Vanya.”

Five watched with poorly hidden amusement as Vanya did a double-take, her eyes widening comically. “A mannequin?” she repeated, an audible scoff added onto the end of her words. “Are you kidding, Luther?”

Five was honestly surprised that his sister had addressed Luther at all, considering his treatment of her. She still treated him rather coldly (as Five thought he would have done, too), but this morning, with its cool air and lack of mosquitoes lingering in the garden, Five found that all of his siblings seemed to be rather...relaxed. More open.

“I’m not kidding,” Five muttered, more to himself than to Vanya, although he didn’t take her incredulity personally, of course. Forty-two years ago, Five would have said the same thing himself. But Dolores had become more than a hunk of plastic. She was real, and she was alive, and she was beautiful. He knew that if she could speak, she would have told him that she loved him, just as he had grown to love her. And now that Five had...other dating options, he still wanted only her.

Vanya let out a loud laugh once he admitted it, unexpected and somehow heartening. At the sound of it, Five’s heart leapt with that incredible long-lost sense of joy from being around people, and especially Vanya, who had always looked out for him. “Five—” his sister began.

“No, don’t ridicule me, please,” he interrupted with a grimace. “Just...keep Dolores out of things.”

Vanya seemed to be on her way to nodding when Klaus, Allison, and Diego arrived with their mugs of coffee, settling down at the slightly rusty metal table. “What’s that I heard about a mannequin?” Diego asked, a small smile playing on his face.

“Oh my god,” Klaus said suddenly, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. “You didn’t—?”

Five felt his face flush with embarrassment. “Klaus, that’s none of your business.”

His brother let out a short giggle, and from the other end of the table, Luther choked on his coffee. “Does that mean you  _ did _ ?” Klaus mock-whispered. He tilted his head up to the side as if looking at someone who wasn’t there. “It’s fine! You’re so—uptight—all the time!” he groused.

“Um,” said Vanya, but Klaus was waving his hands around as if motioning the words he’d just spoken to move along. “That wasn’t to you, lil bro, that was to Ben—”

“Don’t call me ‘lil bro,’ Klaus. I’m much older than you,” Five lamented with growing irritation, just as Diego asked suddenly, “Ben? You see Ben?”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “I  _ always _ see Ben,” he replied sourly. “He’s always trying to tell me what to do.” He thought back for a moment. “Matter of fact, what I said to him about being uptight, that  _ can _ apply to you too, Five, you know.”

“Leave him alone,” Vanya said sharply, her eyes narrowing to slits. Well, damn. Five still felt himself exhale with relief, however, when he turned to look at her and saw that her irises were brown and not white.

An awkward silence ensued, the siblings sipping from their mugs slowly and Klaus making loud slurping noises to fill the void of sound.

“So,” Allison said finally with a perceivable cough, “I was thinking that Five and Vanya could work on honing their powers today. Just, experimenting in a safe space, testing things out.” Her weakened vocal cords produced words that were low and scratchy sounding, but at least now, she could speak, even if only a little.

Allison paused, seeming to hope that she would garner a reaction, but the Hargreeves siblings simply stared at her blankly. Five’s mind had suddenly begun to buzz at the mere thought of working with his powers again, and in a way that wasn’t just spatial jumps, but with actual  _ time _ involved. It was a heady thought, effused with the memory of past disaster, but also self-assuredness.

“Anyway, it was just an idea,” Allison muttered quietly, picking up her mug and scooting her metal chair back. The movement created an awful screeching sound on the slate patio, and Klaus covered his ears. Funnily enough, Five saw that Diego and Luther had exchanged a look of some mutual agreement of feeling. That was certainly new. Maybe his sibling could change after all these years.

“I like the idea!” said Vanya quickly, her eyes smiling though her mouth was still set in that typical thin line. “And, you know, it doesn’t just have to be us...you guys can join us, too!”

“I think I will,” Diego said, tapping his index finger gently on the table. “Maybe I can branch out from just using knives.”

***

So that’s what they were doing an hour later, Vanya stretched out in the garden’s dirt, staring up at the sun as plants uprooted around her, spraying soil in all directions. Allison watched; her sister’s power was strangely terrible and beautiful, the one with the most potential out of them all.

Diego had taken up a collection of spare objects from around the garden, differing in the shape and size of the knives he’d gotten so used to, and was attempting to aim them at a crack in the garden shed’s wall. Allison assumed that this would have been an easy task except for two things: many of the items being thrown through the air were soft and flimsy, like Grace’s gardening gloves; Diego was also turned in the other direction, blindfolded.

Five had disappeared from this timeframe, leaving only his clothes behind. Allison hoped that wherever he was, he had something to wear. A minute later, a crash sounded behind Ben’s broken statue, and Allison saw her brother’s head peek out from the side, the horror dawning in his eyes when he realized that he was naked. His eyes flitted to his discarded uniform in the middle of the yard.

Sighing, Allison stood from where she had been reading and ambled over to pick up her brother’s clothes, tossing them over the statue’s base. A pale hand reached up and caught them effortlessly, accompanied by a mumbled, “thanks.” Allison could only smile in amusement. “So...I take it  _ that  _ didn’t go well,” she mused, voice quiet as to not strain itself.

“Nope,” said Five shortly. A few moments later he stood, fully clothed, and brushed the spare dirt off of his navy shorts. “I did time travel, though.”

“You did?”

Five cocked an eyebrow. “It was another century, I think,” he told her. “I was still here, but the Academy was almost...a store?” He shook his head. “Either way, the old man was there. He was testing out some umbrellas.”

“Maybe that’s how he named the Academy,” Allison said with a laugh, which quickly turned into a cough. Over on the other end of the garden, Diego cursed and tore off his blindfold, shaking his hand furiously.

“What’s wrong with you?” Five asked, striding over with Allison on his heels. She gasped when she saw what he’d done; Diego’s middle finger had a thick slice of flesh cut out of it, and the wound was bleeding profusely. “What did you do?” she breathed, stunned.

“I cut myself,” Diego said slowly, as if he was speaking to a child. Allison gave her brother a look, and he dropped his shoulders. “I was shooting the garden rake at the wall,” he finally explained. “I wanted to try something heavier, you know? But it just fell over on my hand and cut it instead.”

“And somehow the rake was sharpened to the point of mimicking a knife?” Five asked sarcastically, his lips pursed. “Good one, Diego. Go inside and bandage that up.”

Diego sighed, taking off his right glove carefully and wrapping it around his left middle finger. “I had Vanya meld the tines of the rake to miny daggers,” he admitted, all in one breath. Behind him, Allison noticed that her sister had crept forward to stand behind Diego, and now looked extremely guilty. “Allison—” she began.

“You guys are so stupid,” Five muttered, and stalked past them towards the mansion. Allison watched him walk away, a gleeful bubble burgeoning inside her despite herself. These conflicts, they were  _ family  _ conflicts. They were  _ finally  _ becoming family.

“At least we know what Vanya’s capable of!” Five called over his shoulder, before disappearing in a flash of blue light.

She, Diego, and Vanya turned to face each other, a knowing look echoing between them. Allison was sure that right now, her siblings were thinking the same thing that she was. Finally, Diego straightened and walked towards the door as well. “I do need to get this patched up,” he said with a slight grin.

“Go ahead,” Vanya told him. “We’ll be right in.”

He disappeared behind the gilded double doors and Allison watched Vanya give a soft sigh. “What is it?” she asked her sister hesitantly.

“I’m just tired,” Vanya replied. “I’ve never done this much with my powers before.”

“It’s beautiful,” Allison whispered. “It’s...wonderful.”

“You should give it ago,” Vanya said. Allison cocked her head. “I—don’t—”

Vanya chuckled. “Your powers,” she explained. “Try them on me. Go ahead.” Her face darkened at Allison’s continued hesitation. “Allison—”

“ _ I heard a rumor _ …” Allison murmured. Vanya stilled as the words echoed around them, and Allison could almost feel herself the tangible fear and anticipation in her sister’s drawn-up tension. She  _ did  _ feel it, because the feeling was inside her, too. The last time they’d been in this position...well, it had not gone so well. But this time, Vanya had allowed it, had  _ asked  _ for it. “... _ that you told me how you really feel about the Academy _ ,” Allison finished with a mounting spike of worry. Had that been an okay thing to ask?

“I’m scared,” Vanya admitted with a rush of air, the words beginning to pour out of her like a fountain. “I’m scared of the others—not you—and what they think of me; I’m scared that the apocalypse isn’t over; I’m scared of the ghost of Leonard, yet furious at him; I’m scared of losing the family that I just got after all these years, that you guys will turn your backs on me again. And I’m resentful of that, too.”

She paused for breath, chest heaving with pent-up emotion, hanging over a high cliff. “But mostly, I’m scared of myself, that I’ll lose control again and...kill someone. I’m scared of the fact that  _ I _ would have been the one to cause the apocalypse, that I have that much power. Allison, I’m  _ so afraid _ .”

Allison reached out and threw her arms around Vanya, feeling her sister melt into her touch, shaking with unspent sobs. The Rumor charm fell away, and Allison felt Vanya’s hot tears leak into her shirt, but she didn’t mind. She could have stayed this way for a long time, but there was something else that she needed to ask. “Did I go too far?” Allison whispered.

“No,” breathed Vanya in reply, the small syllable barely audible. “I needed that. I needed to tell you that. Thank you.” She looked up, face red and blotchy. “Allison, I mean it. Don’t feel guilty.”

A sharp sting hit the tip of her nose, and Allison felt tears pooling in her eyes. She tried to blink them back to no avail; the feeling kept returning in stronger amounts, making her curl into Vanya’s touch. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so—”

“Don’t say it,” Vanya reminded her, brushing a hand over Allison’s crochet spiraled hair. “I’m glad I asked, okay?”

“Okay,” Allison mumbled, the word almost a whimper. She’d meant to comfort Vanya, but now they were both in shambles. “Can I just—?”

“No,” Vanya interjected stubbornly, and they both laughed, albeit somewhat painfully on Allison’s part. “This is what we need right now.”

***

Klaus walked along the long empty hall of the Academy, whistling carelessly, but his heart was not in it. His heart wasn’t anywhere, really. If Klaus could think of one place he would be able to find it, he was sure that his heart was back in 1960s Vietnam. Which was simply wonderful.

“Hey, Klaus!”

Klaus spun around to see Diego jogging towards him, a crisp white bandage wrapped around his left middle finger. “Are you okay, bro?”

“I’m fine,” Diego said quickly, seeming to shake off the concern. “Just nicked myself. I was wondering where you are going.” He paused, gaze suddenly narrowing and mouth opening slightly. “Why are you inside? Wouldn’t you normally be, I don’t know, out somewhere, trying to get high?”

“I would,” Klaus lamented, not looking Diego in the eye. “I’m just not in the mood.” He felt, truly, as if a dank cold had come and swallowed him up, leaving him permanently in winter. It was bearable around the others, when he wasn’t left by himself, but when Klaus was  _ alone… _

He wished he could have died in Vietnam.

“Hey, we’re brothers, you know,” Diego said suddenly, wrapping his arm around him. “You can tell me stuff.”

“Ugh, you sound like Mom,” Klaus muttered. He’d meant for it to be a joke, but the words came out all wrong, stilted and painfully infused with that underlying sense of sorrow. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, not wanting to get Diego involved.

“No,” his brother said firmly, his mouth set in a line. “Let me help, however I can. I can see that you’re going through some shit, but I need to know what it is to help you.”

“You’re not going to believe me,” was Klaus’s only reply.

Diego laughed at that. “We have superpowers,” he scoffed. “The apocalypse was about to happen. Try me.”

Klaus sighed. “Fine,” he acquiesced. “You want to know? I got a hold of Hazel and Cha-Cha’s time-traveling briefcase, thought it would have money inside, opened it, got sent to the Vietnam War, fell in love, and shit happened. Now I’m here, and I’m too sad to get truly high and too sad to stay completely sober. So,” he finished with a sigh, “now I’m on my way to the alcohol cabinet. Wanna come with?”

Diego was silent, his eyes wide. “Oh,” he finally said. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” muttered Klaus, shaking off Diego’s touch. “Damn.”

The next moment, Ben appeared, his hoodie pulled up over his head, looking sour. “Maybe Diego can do what I couldn’t,” he mused softly. Klaus only raised his eyebrows, a question. Then, he understood. “Diego?”

“Yes?”

“Tie me up,” Klaus ordered, voice tight. “I need to get sober. I need to see someone. I  _ need  _ to.” He could hear the desperation in his own voice, and he despised it. But it was necessary.

“W-what?” Diego asked. “I don’t even know where to find a rope!”

“I know where one is,” Klaus said quickly, drawing in a breath and grabbing his brother’s wrist.

“Where are you going?” Ben asked bewilderedly, hopping off the hall couch he’d been lounging on. “Wait—”

They were already running, Klaus with a vicious fervor in his eyes. Finally, he had something in life to look  _ forward  _ to, something to  _ live for _ .

He reached the attic, Diego on his heels. In the corner, a thick blue utility rope was bundled together, and Klaus grabbed it tightly, almost pushing it into his brother’s hands. “Please.”

So Diego sat Klaus down in an uncomfortable wooden chair and wrapped the rope round and round, knotting it off at the end. “What was her name?” Diego asked as he worked.

“ _ His _ name,” sighed Klaus, “was Dave.” He told his brother of how they met, what they had been through. How Klaus had heard the enemy shot and felt it a million times louder than any of the others, seen Dave’s body hit the ground with all the sound disappeared from the world. How he’s shaken him. How he’d finally made it back, with only a set of dog tags to remember him by.

Klaus had knelt over Dave as the blood caked around his bullet wound, applying pressure there, but to no avail. He had removed the tag from Dave’s neck and placed it on his chain with one of his own, leaving the other of his and the other of Dave’s with his body. They were still together in Vietnam, in some sick, forgotten way.

Finally, Diego was finished, and he stepped away, tugging on the rope a little to test its give. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

“No,” Klaus murmured. “Thank you, brother.” He tried to smile. Hopefully, Diego would understand.

His brother nodded solemnly and walked to the door, closing it behind him. Klaus let out a great sigh. Now, he just had to wait. Thankfully, Ben already knew everything, and he knew better to intrude.

The day passed on, dark and stifling in the attic, and Klaus felt his mouth become dry and his throat become achy. He was hungry, too, but that was the least of it. Diego had come back to check on him a few times, bringing him food and water, but Klaus hadn’t accepted it. He’d complained, too, about needing to pee, but Diego wasn’t having any of that, instead gesturing to a green plastic bucket. Then he’d left.

It was evening when the faint glimmer of a shadow reached Klaus’s tired eyelids. “Dave?” he whispered, willing it to be true. “Dave,  _ Dave… _ ”

The man stepped into the light, and Klaus felt his throat tighten. He would have simply cried if his throat hadn’t been so dry and his head not pounding. “Klaus,” Dave said quietly.

That simple word broke him, and despite his body’s toughness, he broke into tears, bowing his head and straining against the rope. His shoulders shook with sobs, and he barely noticed as Dave approached him, kneeling in front of the chair.

“Look at me,” Dave whispered, a beautiful, haunting sound. Klaus complied, lifting his head and staring into those blue, blue eyes.

“I found you,” Klaus said, relishing Dave’s touch as he wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “I watched you die, I thought I’d never see you again, but I  _ found you _ .”

“You found me,” Dave echoed, a bittersweet smile manifesting upon his handsome face. “You’ll never let me go again.”

“I’ll never—” began Klaus, but he didn’t get to finish, because now Dave was kissing him, soft lips moving slowly across his own and then down his jaw and onto his neck. _ I missed you _ , those lips said. _ I love you _ .

“Untie me,” Klaus whispered, and he smiled deliriously as Dave’s fingers undid the knot Diego had created. They melted into each others’ arms, kissing, laughing, murmuring sweet promises to each other in the dark attic. Klaus was surprised to find himself able to  _ touch  _ Dave, much less kiss him, but his conviction was here, and if it was Dave that brought that out of him, then he appreciated it greatly.

A loud crash interrupted them, and Klaus and Dave sprang apart. A moment later, Klaus felt himself be knocked to the floor, a sharp pain ricocheting through his cheekbone. He heard a gun click, and a shiver slid down his spine. “Dave!” Klaus called frantically. “Dave, where are you?”

“I’m here!” his lover called from a few feet away. Klaus sighed in relief, then wondered briefly if this was a flashback. But, apparently, it wasn’t.

“Where’s Number Three? Allison?” ordered a familiar voice.

Klaus groaned. “Cha-Cha? Is that you?”

She stepped into the light, tall and imposing, gun raised. “Where. Is. Your. Sister?”

“Who’s that?” Dave asked nervously, eyes flitting between them.

“Long story,” muttered Klaus, bad memories from earlier in the week—though to him, it had been a year—pulsing through him. “She’s bad news.”

Cha-Cha recoiled, and Klaus remembered how off-put she had been by his conjuring of the dead before, back in the hotel room. “Scared of the dead?” Klaus taunted, though he considered his words quite ironic. “Hmm?”

She stepped closer, pressing the loaded gun to his chest. “Is she here? Tell me now or you die.”

“Who says I want to live?” he countered lazily. “How are you even here, up in this attic?”

“I flew,” she replied sardonically, shaking back her hair. “Now, I’m going to give you ‘till the count of five. One. Two.”

“Go ahead.” Klaus sat there on the floor, arms splayed open in defeat. “Like I said, I don’t care.”

She paused at that, chin tilting upwards. “Fine. Maybe  _ this  _ will help.” She pulled her other hand from her pocket, and it was holding a small bag containing two clear pills filled with crushed white powder.

“What’s that?” asked Klaus apprehensively, though he truly already knew. He knew his fear was showing, but though he tried to shut it down, nothing happened.

“Something you  _ love _ ,” Cha-Cha whispered, before locking open his jaw with her fingers and dumping the contents of the bag inside. Klaus coughed and sputtered, trying to spit out the pills, but he couldn’t remove what was already there.

Dave disappeared from beside him in a moment, and Klaus was left alone with Cha-Cha, her self-satisfied laughter, and the sound of her boots as she stomped out the door and down the creaky stairs.


	5. allowance

allowance [14:42](https://ia601509.us.archive.org/11/items/1.-precipice_202008/5.%20Allowance.mp3)

**TEXT TRANSCRIPTION**

\--

Diego had just sat down at the end of what he thought qualified as a successful day. No killing Cha-Cha, perhaps, but that would come with skilled planning. First, he needed to find out where she was. Aside from that, he’d had a good day, he supposed. Grace had just served a hot meal of curry over rice and was watching them eat contentedly. It was all decidedly domestic.

“Well, well, well…” mumbled a lazy voice. Klaus lumbered into the kitchen with a careless grin, approaching the dinner table. “What’s with all the glum faces?” He was sweating profusely despite the chilly air conditioning, and his words were slightly slurred. Diego narrowed his eyes.

“We called you down a few times,” Luther said quietly. “What have you been doing up there in that attic?”

“Diego was helping me sober up,” Klaus explained, waving his hand around and leaning against the counter. He let Grace lead him to a chair and plopped onto it, propping up his chin with his fist.

Luther snorted. “That obviously worked.”

“Well, it  _ was  _ working,” Diego muttered, setting his spoon into his bowl. He stared at his brother warily. If he was being honest, he felt a little disappointed in him. Klaus had seemed so desperate, so willing to change his ways for this. It had seemed too important to him to slip up. “I don’t know what happened.”

Klaus hummed softly as Grace placed a bowl of curry in front of him. “Oh. I think Cha-Cha drugged me,” he said nonchalantly. Shrugging with surprising energy, he spooned a bite of the curry into his mouth. “Mmm, Mom, this is good!” At that, Grace smiled at him and left the room, humming softly.

Diego found himself exchanging a glance with Luther for the second time that day. Although, now that his brother wasn’t being such an asshole, he didn’t mind their begrudging alliance. “Cha-Cha-?” he repeated warily. “Well if that’s true, where is she now?”

Klaus shrugged again, a smile forming on his face. It wasn’t happy though; his brother looked on the verge of tears. “It worked, Diego,” he whispered softly. “I saw him...and then he disappeared.”

“Why?” asked Diego, his mind whiplashing from one topic to the next.

“Because Cha-Cha drugged me!” Klaus yelled furiously, voice higher than the first time. Across the table, his siblings looked uncomfortable, as if they had just witnessed a private conversation; yet at the same time, they looked rather worried at the prospect of Cha-Cha in their lives again, just when everything had calmed down.

Breaking into tears, Klaus stood from his chair and rushed over to Five, kneeling at his brother’s feet. “Five, won’t you please send me back?” he asked breathlessly, and Diego could see him unraveling far too quickly.

***

It was exactly how Klaus felt. His knees dug sharply into the tile floor at Five’s feet, and his mind was bursting with an exhausting chaotic energy that he couldn’t quell. He didn’t even know what he truly wanted; all Klaus knew was that it was becoming more and more painful to be away from Dave—and now Cha-Cha had taken that from him, too.

He was well-aware of what he looked like: his typical deranged, high self. He worried briefly whether any of his siblings would ever trust him again, but he didn’t really care. “Send me back,” he murmured again.

Klaus watched as Five’s eyes flicked to Vanya’s, and his eyes traveled with him. He saw Vanya give him an odd look, as if she was wondering why he even wanted her support or opinion. “What’s going on?” Five finally asked, voice straight and stiff, just like his back.

So Klaus spilled it all, his trip to Vietnam, his successful conjuring of Dave, and Cha-Cha’s unwelcome intrusion. At the end, he touched his head lightly, lips protruding in a pout. “I hit my head too,” he mumbled to himself, then looked up.

Luther was staring at him with an almost disgusted look on his face, lip curling just a bit and eyes cold. Klaus felt himself deflate inside. Did they still not believe him?

“If all this is true,” Luther said slowly, “why isn’t Cha-Cha in here right now, shooting up the place?”

“I don’t  _ know _ !’ whined Klaus his head falling into his hands. “The memory around it is all fuzzy, like—”

“Like you made it up?” Five asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like you made all of this up?” added Luther.

Five sighed. “No, Luther—the Vietnam part is true. Klaus had time-travel jet lag. And the briefcase  _ is  _ how the Commission agents get around.”

“And the conjuring part was true, too!” Diego interjected. Klaus looked up at him, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. Despite how he must have looked and sounded like right now, his brothers were actually  _ defending _ him. Five’s support was especially meaningful; he rarely defended anyone, much less any of his siblings. And even if Diego was only disagreeing to get under Luther’s skin....well, Klaus hoped that it was more than that, and, surprisingly, he had a feeling it was.

“Regardless,” Luther said after a moment, taking in a deep breath, “Where is Cha-Cha? If she attacked and drugged Klaus, where the fuck is she?”

At that moment, a gun clicked, and Cha-Cha herself stepped into the light. “I was wondering when you’d start worrying about me.”

“What are you doing here?” Diego asked dangerously, standing from his seat and pulling a knife from his strap. “Haven’t ruined our family enough, have you?”

Cha-Cha laughed softly, stepping towards him, and Diego twitched. Klaus could see that his brother’s face was tight with rage, and in the moment, he was almost  _ afraid _ of him. He could see, right here and right now, why Hargreeves named him Number Two.

“I’m not here to kill you,” Cha-Cha said suddenly, and before Klaus could blink, she’d pivoted and aimed her gun at Allison, whose eyes widened. Almost within the same second, Vanya had thrown her arms in front of her sister, and Five had teleported to stand in front of her as well, accompanied by a flash of blue light.

Klaus stood shakily, his hands spread out in front of him. “Now, wait—Cha-Cha—” he began. But he didn’t know where to go or what to say...he was full of unspent energy, but his brain was too foggy to focus it.

Before he could act, Vanya let out a yell that became a battle cry, launching her bowl at Cha-Cha without warning. The assassin screamed as leftover hot curry splattered all over her face and she staggered backwards, firing the weapon in her hands.

Vanya released another cry, deflecting the bullet, and in her haste, it hit Luther who yelled but was otherwise unharmed due to his gorilla-like abnormalities. Klaus found himself hunched on the floor, curled in upon himself. Like always.

“Get up,” sneered a small voice in his head. But it wasn’t in his head; Ben was there beside him, an irritated look on his face. “Do you know what I would give to be alive right now, defending my family? You make me sick.”

But Klaus couldn’t take the criticism right now. Hot tears were leaking down his face, gunshots echoing over and over in his head, a clankerous banging accompanied by anguished yelling and military orders being shouted across the jungle floor.  _ Fuck _ . He was back there again.

“I can’t breathe,” Klaus muttered to himself, rocking back and forth. “I can’t—don’t leave me, please—STOP!”

The drug Cha-Cha had given him, which Klaus was now sure was some strain of Molly, was not helping, only sending him into a crazier frenzy, energy rippling through his limbs and burning off at the edges as he rocked and rocked and rocked.

Beside him, Ben’s face scrunched into a pained grimace as he realized what was happening. “It’s not real!” he shouted amidst the sounds of Luther launching himself at Cha-Cha and Vanya’s hailstorm of objects hurtling through the air. “You’re safe, you’re here; it’s 2019, Klaus!” He cringed, as if there was something he needed to get out of the way and just say. “Get the  _ FUCK UP _ , and help our family,  _ please _ !”

“I’m trying!” Klaus cried, but he couldn’t stop, the tears streaming down his face faster and faster. “Ben, please stop!”

All of a sudden, it was all gone. The gunshots, the flurry of terrifying movement, everything. Blinking slowly, Klaus passed out onto the floor, his head hitting the tile with a thump.

***

“What the fuck was that?” Allison breathed. The longer the say went on, the worse her voice became, and now in the evening, she was all but reduced to whispering. “Why was Cha-Cha trying to kill us? And where was Hazel?”

They were standing in by the table, shell-shocked, Cha-Cha just having made an escape narrowly through the window. Now, glass was shattered everywhere, and Allison watched as her sister drew in a breath and gathered up the shards with her powers, depositing them in a neat power. Vanya looked like hell, eyes red and skin pale, her breathing slightly ragged.

It was almost as bad as Allison felt. Her heart was pounding, but more than that, she felt utterly helpless. She didn’t really have anything to offer the group beyond basic combat training, and had felt like a useless lump during the fight with Cha-Cha. Well...if she used her powers...but Allison knew how that had turned out. None of it ever had been a good idea. Her gift wasn’t a gift at all.

“Hazel quit,” Five said quietly. He was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, his hand propping up his head. “He talked to me a couple days ago, before shit hit the fan. Told me that he was going off, living another life.”

“Good for him,” Allison said, giving a small sigh and sinking into a chair as well.

“You should have let me kill her,” Diego growled suddenly, clenching his fists. “I had her; I was so close—”

“Exactly, that’s the problem,” Luther scoffed. “The only reason that this fight was a struggle was because of you. Six of us versus one of her, you’d think it would have been easy, but it  _ wasn’t  _ because we had to stop you from becoming a murderer!”

A heavy silence ensued. Five tapped his fingers on the table like a short ditty and Allison stared at them, her brain caught in a mindless stare. She couldn't concentrate, and her mind hurt from holding back her power after having used it so openly against Vanya. She understood that she was recalibrating, but it annoyed her to no end, and it hurt like hell.

“Where’s Klaus?” Vanya asked suddenly, her head popping up. Allison’s brows rose and she felt a little bubble of guilt forming in her chest; she’d barely thought about him at  _ all _ . She pulled back her chair, and her jaw fell open when she found him lying under the table, his eyes closed. “Is he...asleep?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

“I think he’s unconscious,” Five said matter-of-factly, reaching down to pull his brother by the wrist.

“Oh, damn,” Diego said softly, a hand coming to cover his mouth. “Shit. He, uh...the gunshots probably upset him.”

“Upset him?” Luther repeated, scoffing. “He’s never...oh.” Allison saw an expression of guilt wash over his countenance. She knew that face well enough, and that feeling upon it. Luther never had been good enough at hiding his feelings, even from Hargreeves. In the past, she’d been endeared by that, attracted to it, even...but now it just reminded her of why it was best that they remain just friends. They all had enough going on in their lives, and Allison didn’t need an overdramatic boyfriend to top it off.

“I’ll take Klaus over to Mom,” Diego said after a moment, stuffing his knife back in its sheath and picking his brother up with a groan. “Someone clean up this mess.” There was spilled food and platter shards everywhere, not to mention Vanya’s not-so-small glass pile.

“I can do it,” Vanya replied as he left, and retrieved the broom from the closet, beginning to sweep the floor neatly.

“Can’t you do that with your powers?” Luther asked. Allison couldn’t be sure if he was attempting to be amiable or not, but he hoped he was.

“I don’t want to,” said Vanya simply. “I’m tired.”

“I can help,” Five added with a small smile. Brushing his hand on Vanya’s shoulder as he passed her, he retrieved another broom, as well as a sponge and multipurpose cleaner. “Why don’t you two go and sort some things out?”

Allison snorted to herself. Five never missed a single thing. “Come on, Luther, let’s go,” she said, grabbing her brother’s arm and dragging him from the room.

They made it only to the main living room before Luther spoke. “What’s going on with us?”

“What  _ is _ ?” Allison echoed. “I don’t think—”

But at that specific moment, the phone began to ring. “Shit,” Allison cursed. “I better get that.”

She ambled over to the telephone that hung on the wall, sighing as she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“May I speak to Allison Hargreeves if she is there?” said a high-pitched, girlish voice on the other end of the line.

Allison felt herself do a double-take.  _ Why— _ ? “That’s me,” she responded carefully, hoping this wasn’t another one of Cha-Cha or the Commission’s plots. “To whom am I speaking?”

“Hello, Ms. Hargreeves. I’m calling from the Legal Services Department.”

Allison felt a chill run through her. A thousand worries sped through her body at once—was Claire alright? Had something happened? Was she being sued?

The woman on the other end continued. “This morning, your ex-husband Patrick Gregory was involved in a car accident and has since entered a coma. In normal circumstances, we would not be able to contact you about this sensitive medical information, seeing as you are no longer legally involved with him or his daughter, Claire, but Mr. Gregory, as you probably know, has no living relatives within the country.”

It was a title wave, that explanation. Patrick—Patrick was in the hospital, in a  _ coma _ ? She felt a rush of affection for her daughter, who was all alone and probably scared to death...she needed to be there as soon as possible. Although, it had hurt her when the woman had referred to Claire as  _ Patrick’s  _ daughter and  _ his  _ only. She supposed that this is what that had come to, and she hated herself for it.

“What...is going on?” is all Allison could say. She felt Luther come up behind her, and let herself fall into his embrace, dearly hoping that he wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

“We’re asking you to take care of Claire Gregory,” the woman said. “Of course, since Mr. Gregory received full custody on his testimony of your emotional manipulation of him and his daughter—” (at this, Allison winced again) “—you will be required to go into a brief, five-session rehabilitation program and get cleared for temporary custody by a psychiatrist.”

The words were blunt and complicated, but for Allison they felt like a stream of sweet rushing water through a slightly windy forest, milk and honey against a dry and hungry tongue. She didn’t know what to say.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” the woman said, “but please consider.”

“I do! I will!” Allison cried into the phone, attempting fruitlessly to wipe her eyes. “Thank you—how do I—?

“I can direct you to another number that will provide rehabilitation instructions,” the woman replied, seeming to sense how flustered she had become. Allison thought that perhaps, too, she heard the barest glint of a smile in her voice, and wondered fleetingly if she’d ever been in a similar situation. From one mother to another.

“I—thank you,” Allison breathed, once the woman had finished giving her the number, and Allison repeating it so that Luther could scribble it down. Now, after this brief conversation, her throat was beginning to throb from speaking over a whisper.

“Have a nice day,” the woman said, and Allison heard the phone click a second later.

Allison truly smiled for what felt like the first time in a long time. She was going to see her daughter.


	6. change

change [14:55](https://ia601509.us.archive.org/11/items/1.-precipice_202008/6.%20Change.mp3)

**TEXT TRANSCRIPTION**

\--

The silence was rather nice.

Vanya stood by the dining table, sweeping the remains of the glass shards from the window and the porcelain shards from the curry bowl into a dustpan. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Five wiping up the food spills, his brows scrunched together in concentration as he reached a particularly tough spot. It was, if she was being honest, cute.

Of course, if Five’s power was mind-reading instead of teleporting and mediocre time-travel, he would have been absolutely repulsed and irritated by her sentiment. Vanya knew that if it were her, she would have been, too. After all, he was a fifty-five-year-old man and a made killer, not a thirteen-year-old boy with a babyface.

The silence was rather nice, but it was cut short when Five began to speak. “Your concert was amazing.”

“Thank you,” Vanya said, sweeping the last of the shards into a pan and taking them over to the trash bin. “It felt wonderful, too.”

He smirked. “You were using your powers, weren’t you?”

Vanya shrugged. “Possibly,” she said softly, hanging the dustpan on its hook in the supply cabinet. “If I was, I didn’t know it.” She paused, remembering the rush of power she had felt when playing, her bow sliding across the strings like an extension of her mind, the sound of the orchestra the only thing in her head, becoming louder and louder until it was all she could hear.

Just as she’d once described the phenomenon to Leonard.

“I love it,” she continued, feeling a smile creep up her face. “I love the feeling of my power, the air and sound echoing around me. I feel…”

“Free?” Five suggested with a raised eyebrow.

Vanya stared at him, so seemingly nonchalant as he leaned against the table, tapping the sponge on his knee. “How’d you know?”

“That’s what it’s like when I time-travel,” Five replied, a faint grin on his tired face. “Regular teleporting is draining; it feels nice at first and almost  _ heady _ ...then it burns, like an exhausted muscle. But time-travel...I felt like I could do it forever.”

“Then how did you get stuck in the future? And with the Commission?” Vanya asked, careful not to sound accusatory. “If you could just keep going—”

“That was the exception,” Five interrupted, his eyes darkening. “It wasn’t that I was too tired, no. I simply had underestimated the sheer preparation that time-travel takes. When I was thirteen, an impetuous child sitting at the old man’s table, I had prepared to travel to the future,  _ only  _ the future.” He huffed a laugh tinted with past frustration and annoyance. “When I was stuck in the apocalypse, I didn’t have the resources to prepare for a journey back.”

Vanya nodded. Five’s power had always been confusing to her, but now it occurred to her that it was even more complicated than it appeared. Perhaps, she thought with a dawn of realization, all of the siblings’ powers were that way.

“Do you think that Klaus’s power could...do more than allow him to speak with the dead?” Vanya asked slowly.

Five didn’t look surprised at her question, rather like he’d expected it. “I’ve thought about that, too,” he mused, staring up at the ceiling. “What if he could touch them? Show them to us?”

“And what if Luther also had super-speed as well as superstrength?” Vanya added.

“There are so many directions in which your power could go, too, Vanya.”

She sighed at that, the thought more than a little terrifying and at least a bit intoxicating. It was all so new, and yet Five suggested  _ more _ ? “I suppose.”

He drew his eyes away from the ceiling and met her gaze. “I had a lot of time to think about things during the apocalypse,” he said quietly. “Mostly I thought about you guys, and how to get back. Sometimes I even missed the old man.”

Vanya felt a laugh burble into her chest. “You missed  _ Dad _ ?  _ The  _ Top Asshole of the Year?”

“Eighteen years,” Five added with a chuckle of his own. “But, my point was that I had a lot of thoughts, and sometimes I wondered if you had powers, Vanya. I wasn’t surprised when you did.”

She thought for a moment, remembering her exclusion as a child, both from the others and self-imposed. “But I was always so…”

“You weren’t ordinary, Vanya. You were wonderful at playing the violin, and you were always the kindest to all of us, even when we treated you like shit. You were strong despite all that Hargreeves put you through, and you were clever, too.” He eyed her carefully. “Besides, it’s always the ones you least expect that end up being the most powerful.”

That last statement rang repeatedly in her head, not necessarily something new, but definitely intriguing. It had been true in almost every other instance that Vanya knew of, and now that it was being applied to her, well. It was hard to take in.

“I guess I just wanted to say that you’re cool,” Five finished, pushing himself off the table and returning the cleaning supplies to the cabinet.

***

A week passed, but it felt like a month to Allison. She went each day to her rehab for abusive parents, knowing that as much as she hated to admit it...perhaps she needed it. No doubt there was a chance of her slipping back into her old Rumoring ways once Claire was back into the picture. It was the thing that Allison was afraid of above all else, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get her daughter back. To make sure that she had a safe home.

In a way, it broke her heart knowing that Claire had never had any idea of what her mother had been doing to her.

The rehab group, however, was one of the weirdest experiences Allison had ever had. It disturbed her, really, to listen to what her fellow parents had done to their spouses and kids. Although when  _ she  _ had spoken, they had seemed equally repulsed.

That was until they wanted her autograph.

The whole experience had felt like some fever dream, but Allison was sure that it had been good for her. If the year she’d already spent away from Claire had taught her anything, surely this rehab program had cemented it.

On the Saturday of that week, Claire arrived.

At the time she rang the doorbell, accompanied by a temporary guardian who’d driven her to the Academy, Allison was sitting stiff-straight on the gilded sofa, her fingertips tapping the edges of her knees nervously. Any moment now…

Then the sound of the bell had echoed through the despicably large house, and Allison had shot to her feet, scrambling to the front door almost at the speed at which Five could teleport. When she saw her daughter standing there, hair pulled into a fluffy bun and sporting a purple unicorn backpack, she could have cried.

No, that’s wrong. She did cry, tears thick and wet pouring from her eyes accompanied by ugly sobs. Claire was crying, too, but nothing in this moment could match Allison’s overwhelmed and overwhelming emotional state. She’d been so scared that she would never see Claire again, so guilty about Rumoring her all those years.

It had been so much easier to simply shut everything away instead of facing consequences.

“Claire,” Allison cried thickly, her face streaked with tears. “Baby, I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too, Mommy,” her daughter replied, wiping away her tears with some effort. “I missed you everyday. But I don’t think Daddy misses you very much.” She paused, frowning in consternation. “Will he be okay?”

Allison tried to smile, but it was a pained expression. “I don’t know, honey. I hope so.” Although, she didn’t really hope so. If Patrick got out of his coma, she’d lose Claire again, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to handle that. “Let’s go inside, okay?”

Claire nodded quickly, and Allison straightened, thanking the escort with a warm smile and a firm handshake.

Her daughtered chatted away to her as they entered the hall, babbling endlessly about her adventures in the past year, her mean math teacher and her cool friend Samaya, and, of course, reading the spare Umbrella Academy magazines from the ‘90s.

“It sounds like you’ve been up to a lot,” Allison remarked as they reached the main sitting room. Claire practically screeched at the sight of it. “I only see this in the magazines!” she cried excitedly, promptly letting go of Allison’s hand to bounce upon the nearest sofa and frowning slightly when she found it uncomfortable.

Just then, Luther came ambling in from lunch, wearing a long sleeve t-shirt and long pants. At least he didn’t stick solely to overcoats anymore.

“SPACEBOY!” Claire screamed, ambushing him with a fierce hug. He took it in stride, twirling her around in the air. “I’ve heard so much about you, Claire!”

She began to begin an endless conversation with him as well, and Allison decided to sit down, pleasantly surprised when Vanya came into the room and joined her.

“Hey, Allison,” Vanya said quietly, her eyes locked on the adorable scene before them. Luther was now giving Claire a wild piggyback ride around the room, and he had knocked over a potted plant in the process.

“Hey, sis,” Allison replied, and if she could have saved the happiest moment in her life, this would have been it. Her siblings were safe and working on happiness. Her daughter was with her. They were all starting to heal.

A few hours and a couple light drinks later, the whole family had joined them, laughing on the sofas and listening to Allison recount stories of her daughter as Claire played on the carpet, occasionally adding what she deemed to be an important detail. Now  _ this  _ was happy, Allison thought to herself.

Her only issue was Klaus. Right now, they were all a little tipsy from the wine that Grace had served, but Klaus was something else completely. After his so-called accident from Cha-Cha, he’d not been able to sober himself again, and Allison suspected that his outings in the evenings had something to do with it.

She cornered him after their gathering, while Luther took Claire up to bed. Claire had protested, but Allison had promised her daughter that she’d be up soon, she just needed a word with Uncle Klaus first.

Now they were alone, and her brother was leaning languidly against one of the columns, cleaning under his nails with disinterest. “Will you cut that out and look at me?” Allison snapped, yanking his shoulder towards her.

Klaus looked up, his blank countenance morphing into what looked like wariness. “Yes, oh sister queen?”

She glared at him. “I told you to sober up,” she snapped angrily. “I told you the day after I got the call to get yourself together, because I am not having you high around my daughter.”

“Why do you care so much?” Klaus asked with half-lidded eyes.

“Because you’re being a bad influence! On her and our entire family. And worst of all, on yourself.” Allison stepped backwards, shaking her head. “You can be so disappointing sometimes.”

Klaus drew back at those words, his face crumpling from a careless grin to an expression of unashamed betrayal. “If that’s what you think,” he murmured, beginning to walk away.

“You better get clean!” Allison shouted after him, but Klaus waved her off with a gesture that relied heavily on his middle finger. “ _ Klaus _ !”

He turned the corner, and Allison groaned in defeat, throwing back her head. Maybe someone closer to him would make him listen. Diego, perhaps, or even Five. Anyone was better than her, apparently.

Sighing, she turned to make her way upstairs, where Claire would now be settling into Allison’s old bedroom with Luther telling her a story. It was time to put her daughter to bed, this time without any mind tricks.

***

“I have to get clean.”

“Finally, you admit it to yourself.”

Ben and Klaus sat in Klaus’s room, Klaus fiddling with his dog tags and Ben staring at Klaus with his arms crossed.

“Why have you waited so long?” Ben continued, his voice hinting at judgement as always, but this time infused with an undertone of...concern?

“I don’t wanna see…” Klaus whimpered, trailing off. “I remember the rush of what it felt like to get high, Cha-Cha brought that back, and I just—” He sighed. “I don’t want—t-to see the soldiers that were there with me and Dave. They died and I lived and Ben, I don’t wanna…”

His brother’s face softened and his eyes closed. “I was there, too, remember?”

Klaus nodded, sniffing. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“None of that matters,” Ben said firmly, opening his eyes. Klaus found that they were steely and prepared. “But I know that you were able to touch Dave as a ghost. I saw you briefly holding hands. So I can only imagine—”

“—that I can show you to the others?” Klaus asked breathlessly. “Can we all be together again?”

“Maybe,” Ben said, shrugging. “But only if you fucking  _ sober up _ . And that’s the only way you’ll be able to see Dave, too. You  _ know  _ that!”

Klaus felt momentarily ashamed at hearing Ben’s words. He couldn’t even get clean to see the love of his life. Something felt wrong about that thought, as if there had been more to it that Klaus couldn’t perceive. All week, he had felt his siblings’ eyes on him, some judgemental and some simply...blank. As if they had expected him to succumb in the end. The thought made him rather angry, rationally so, he thought. But he said nothing on that matter, instead blurting, “Please help me. Like Diego did.”

“You want me to tie you up?” Ben asked.

“Whatever it takes,” Klaus responded, voice thick. “I just need to be clear of this haze, I need it to be over. I want to be with my husband.”

“He’s your husband?”

“Basically,” Klaus said quickly. “I told him that if we ever got back to the future together, they allowed gay marriage. So…”

“I get the point,” sighed Ben. “You ready?”

Klaus nodded, running the pad of his thumb over Dave’s dog tag. “Yes,” he whispered, the word a promise.  _ I’m coming, Dave. _

***

Cha-Cha had known failure before. She had faced it with sharp eyes, strong legs and a straight back. She had failed fearlessly, and she had never hesitated to pick herself back up and try again, this time succeeding.

The Hargreeves siblings were a different case altogether. She kept failing with them, and she hadn’t yet succeeded. At first, she had faulted herself on the matter; she wasn’t as quick on her feet as she had been in her youth; she had been too overconfident; or perhaps it was because she was working against the best agent in Commission history, Five Hargreeves.

But then she and Hazel had begun to have problems in their partnership. She loved her job; he hadn’t. She enjoyed spending time with him, but apparently, the feeling hadn’t been mutual. That much had been clear when he had started skipping out on her for the doughnut lady, Agnes.

That had been the beginning of the end of their relationship.

Cha-Cha was still in love with Hazel.

He had never loved her.

Now he was gone.

Cha-Cha screamed from where she lay in her bed, a pillow pressed over her mouth so that no one could hear her anguish. Tonight's failed events proved only to show her dying prowess in the industry, and how obviously mediocre she was without Hazel to support her.

Well, the Commissioner wouldn’t be happy, for one. If only that bastard would show his face instead of throwing his voice through that stupid transmitter. Or however he was doing it.

Cha-Cha really shouldn’t have hesitated. Hazel would have waited like she had, except for him, it would have been to make a dramatic entrance. Cha-Cha had never been one for the dramatics, instead more of a to-the-point sort of person. She had only waited to kill Allison because, well...she had seen the way that robot mother of theirs had been setting the table, humming softly. She had seen the siblings sit down at the table, thanking her, talking among themselves, some conversations bitter and some oddly at ease. Amiable, even.

She had wanted a family, no matter how dysfunctional it was.

And she had waited a moment too long. Klaus Hargreeves, the one who talked to ghosts, had made it to the table, regaling them with his tale of woe. So she had had to wait some more, and her true chance was lost.

If Hazel had been there, she wouldn’t have been distracted by Allison’s family. She wouldn’t have hesitated at all.


	7. domesticity

domesticity [10:15](https://ia601509.us.archive.org/11/items/1.-precipice_202008/7.%20Domesticity.mp3)

**TEXT TRANSCRIPTION**

\--

The weeks continued on. For Vanya, it often went like this: She would wake up around seven o’clock in the morning and head down to breakfast, usually accompanied by Five. In the mornings, Vanya practiced violin, then trained with Five as they worked to further their powers. After lunch, she’d head to rehearsal, always punctual and usually dropped off by at least two of her siblings, who needed to get out of the house anyways.

Although the family would eat breakfast and lunch on their own time, they would all have dinner together in the evenings, the daily event quite a chaotic affair. There were seven of them, not even including Grace, who, though she didn’t eat, often sat and chatted with them after serving the meal, and Pogo, who ate a different dinner but still ate with them nonetheless.

Klaus, of course, was still working on manifesting Ben and Dave into physical forms, so their seats often went empty. When they did happen to appear, they were blue and foggy and barely held form. Klaus, of course, saw them completely, and he chatted with them often, passing along conversation from the table, and in that way they got to speak to their long-lost brother again, not to mention meeting Dave (in a way) for the first time.

One day, as Vanya and Five were in the garden, accompanied by Diego and Klaus, the four of them testing the limits of their powers, a loud sound shook the relative quiet.

“What the fuck was that?” Five breathed, and Vanya felt a shiver of undisguised fear course through her. She’d merely focused on a sound as usual, drawing an energy wave from the universe, but before she could grasp and release it properly, the beam had sunk beneath her feet with a crack, leaving Vanya empty. “I—don’t know,” she said in reply, anticipating. Waiting.

Just then, the ground shook beneath their feet, and a thin crack formed along the slate patio towards the garden shed. “Wait!” Vanya cried, as if the quake was some sentient being, but the shed crumpled, wooden boards falling like matchsticks into a small pile.

Then it was over, just like that.

“Vanya,” whispered Klaus, stepping up behind her. “Did you just...cause an earthquake?” His soft words were deafening in the silence proceeding the crack and the shaking. Vanya shook her head, eyes wide. What the fuck had just happened?

The double doors burst open and Luther came running out, breathing heavily.

“You alright there, big guy?” Klaus asked him, and Luther shot him a glare in return. Klaus only grinned toothily.

“What happened?” Luther asked calmly, despite his haggard expression. “Allison is super worried. Claire was scared shitless. What’s going on? Did you guys do something?”

“Vanya caused an earthquake!” Klaus replied gleefully, jumping up and down.

“I—” Vanya said. “It was totally an accident!” She still had this irrational (or perhaps reasonable) fear of Luther, of the power and authority he’d always held among the siblings. Though she knew that he loved her, as they all did, she couldn’t help but remember the way that he’d thrown her into that iron prison, locking the geared door so that she couldn’t escape.

She still remembered the suffocating feeling of being trapped, alone in the darkness.

“Shh, Vanya, it’s okay,” Luther said quietly, going over to pat her on the back. She flinched away from his touch instinctively, but instantly regretted it when her brother’s face fell and he stepped away, shoulders slumped, crestfallen.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could mumble, shrinking in upon herself as she tended to do.

“No! It’s okay!” comforted Klaus, taking her hand and patting it. She noticed that a blue glow seemed to surround his figure as he stood before her, and she blinked at the sudden influx of light.

“Oh, that’s just Dave and Ben trying to get out and see everyone,” Klaus whispered to her conspiratorially. “I should probably get back to them.” He winked. “I can’t have Ben stealing Dave’s heart, can I?”

Vanya laughed in spite of herself. Things were finally starting to turn out right.

***

A few days later, Klaus managed to finally conjure both Dave and Ben simultaneously and fully corporal. “I can’t wait for dinner,” he said all that day to anyone who would listen. “It’s truly going to be the whole family!” All eleven of them.

“We’re definitely going to need to use the formal dining room,” was Allison’s response. Klaus nodded briefly. “I still can’t believe that this is actually happening. That we’re all here and safe and with everyone we love.” Putting a hand over his heart, Klaus raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Our dear old dad is here with us in spirit, of course.”

Allison laughed, and beside him, Dave rolled his eyes. “Was he really  _ that  _ bad?”

“Oh, he would have made a  _ terrible  _ father-in-law,” Klaus muttered, shaking his head in disgust. “We’re all glad he’s dead, trust me.”

“Sure,” Dave replied, grinning.

Allison had the good sense to walk away when they began to kiss.

***

Dinner arrived not a moment too soon, the table set for the eleven of them, Pogo at one end of the table and Grace at the other. Vanya sat as far from Pogo as she well could. The chimpanzee still made her rightfully infuriated whenever she laid eyes on him, and at the moment, Vanya was focusing very hard on her lasagna to avoid looking at him. Thankfully, Pogo had the good sense to not draw attention to himself, and Vanya was glad that he had some shame.

Aside from that, the dinner went rather well. They all saw Ben for the first time in years, though of course, he still looked the same.

“Can the dead change clothes?” Diego snorted, rolling his eyes. “Because you really had no sense of style, dude.”

Ben shrugged, looking sheepish. “I’ve never really thought about it,” he said. “I don’t know, I was too busy haunting Klaus.” He looked over at their brother, and the Seancé in question shrugged, smiling. “I told you that Ben was always with me.”

“Well, Klaus, I’m sorry for ever doubting you,” Five said quietly, raising his glass. “To our Number Four, more amazing then we could have ever imagined.”

“To Klaus!” they echoed, and drank deeply from their wine glasses. Klaus, noticeably, took a sip of orange juice instead, the same refreshment that Claire was drinking. He grinned at her as they clinked glasses, and she giggled. Across the table, Vanya saw Allison smile at the exchange.

She found that Dave was rather adorable, especially loving cats and flowery patterns, but also movies and car mechanics, and they all found his stories of America and Vietnam in the 1960s to be intensely interesting. Dave was of course amused by this, but nevertheless regaled them with tales about Civil Rights marches he’d been to prior to being drafted, movies that were popular during the time, and even passed on stories shared from the other soldiers at night.

The entire time, Vanya watched as Klaus simply stared at Dave, his face filled with this undeniable bond of love. They had been through some hard shit together, unlike anything any of them could understand, even being the abused kids that they had been.

None of them had witnessed friends die beside them, unable to do anything about it.

And they told him stories of their lives, too, how they had superpowers and how they had gone on missions as kids. None of them mentioned Vanya being the cause of the apocalypse, nor her being assumed to be ‘ordinary,’ and she was extremely grateful for that.

Her happiness seemed to flow outward, and unconsciously, Vanya let her emotions take control of her power, a light, soft breeze drifting around the room as they ate and talked. Right now, she was full of good food, happy to be included in her family, and ready for a nice sleep.

***

After dinner, Diego and Luther helped Grace clean up, gathering the spare dishes and bringing them to the sink, drying them and putting them away once she had washed them.

“Thank you, boys,” Grace chuckled once the dining room and kitchen had been thoroughly cleaned up. She patted Diego affectionately on the cheek.

“No problem, Mom,” Diego replied, hugging her. Luther watched the exchange with a grin on his face; it never ceased to amaze him how much of a real mom or even a human Grace seemed to be in the eyes of his brother. Luther had never felt that same connection, but he was glad Diego valued it..

As they headed upstairs towards their separate rooms, Diego yawned. “That was a lot of food,” he said mindlessly.

“Yeah,” Luther agreed. He was glad that he and his brother didn’t fight so much anymore. That had all been much too tiring. “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, brother,” Diego said in reply, nodding as he shut his door behind him.

Luther made his way to Allison’s old room where Claire was now sleeping, peeping through the crack in the door. Allison was stroking her daughter’s hair gently as she sang her a song, and it was  _ wonderful _ . Luther had obviously heard her sing on TV or in movies before, but this was different.

That was staged, perfected, drawn.

This was simple beauty, created for the sole purpose of comforting a child. It was pure and untainted.

When Claire was asleep, Allison stood from her seat on the bed slowly and crept towards the door. Luther smiled at her when she stepped out, but Allison glared at him. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” she muttered, leading him down the hall. “Next time, don’t just stand outside the door like that, all creepy and stuff.”

“Okay,” Luther said. He could feel the nerves taking over him now, because they were about to have that conversation, and though he had an idea of where he wanted it to go, he knew that Allison most likely disagreed.

“Luther, I will admit that I used to have a crush on you, as you know,” Allison began, folding her hands in her lap. “Maybe it was more than that. But none of it matters anymore.”

Luther felt something inside of him snap, and he leaned forward, his entire body tingling with nerves. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if I ever loved you, I moved on from that. I loved Patrick for a time. And now I want to focus all my love on Claire and our new family.”

“I understand,” Luther said softly, dropping his hand to his thigh. “I just...thought we had a chance.”

“Me too,” said Allison sighing, and Luther could see that it was a great weight taken off her shoulders to say so. “But it’s better that we stay just friends. Just brother and sister.”

Hearing those words was painful to him, but Luther said nothing. Brother and sister. Never the way that Reginald Hargreeves had truly intended, but perhaps in the way that their adoptive mother had. “Okay,” Luther said again. “Yes. Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” Allison murmured, patting his knee. “In another life, Luther. But in this one, we’ll find other people.”

“In another life,” he echoed, and suddenly the prospect of being just friends didn’t sound so terrifying after all.


	8. custody

custody [13:44](https://ia601509.us.archive.org/11/items/1.-precipice_202008/8.%20Custody.mp3)

**TEXT TRANSCRIPTION**

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Cha-Cha was sulking in her hotel room on that same evening, finishing the layout of her next attempt to assassinate Allison. She couldn’t really understand why it was that Allison was the target, but it seemed that she and Vanya were close. Perhaps without her sister’s support, the young violinist would crack, thus ending the world.

It was unlikely, though, and Cha-Cha truly didn’t see the point anymore. Nevertheless, she still continued to do her job. _Question nothing_. That’s how she’d been trained.

“You have one last chance before you are terminated, Cha-Cha,” came the slimy voice again, and Cha-Cha felt her nostrils flare in annoyance at the unwelcome intrusion. “I want Allison Hargreeves dead, though it will be neater if all of them are killed. Except Vanya, obviously.”

“I’m working on it,” she responded as politely as she could, but inside, Cha-Cha was boiling, She had thought the Handler’s management had been bad, but this seemed to be infinitely worse. She was starting to understand with each passing day why Hazel had made his decision to leave the Commission.

“Hurry,” the voice whispered, and this time, it seemed to come right from behind Cha-Cha’s shoulder. She whirled around, but as usual, no one was there. The Commissioner laughed. “Do you need a backup team?”

“No,” Cha-Cha snapped, shutting her briefcase (a real one, not a time-traveling one) with a snap. She and Hazel had been the _best_ of the Commission’s Agents, excluding the legend, Five. And the _best_ did not need backup. Cha-Cha could handle a group of emotionally-stunted siblings. She would not fail this time.

***

The phone rang early the next morning, and Allison rushed out of bed to get it. She still had her morning voice, made even worse by her sore vocal chords, but at least whoever was calling couldn’t see that she was wearing too-tight pajamas and had hair flying everywhere.

“Hello?” Allison asked after briefly clearing her voice. “This is Allison Hargreeves.”

“Allison.” The voice was cold and familiar, eliciting a million feelings within her.

“Patrick?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he said with a sigh. “I know you probably were hoping that I would die.”

She had, in fact, been hoping for something along those lines, despite the utter selfishness of that wish. “Of course not,” Allison replied to her ex-husband, attempting to put on a cheery facade.

She heard him scoff through the phone. “Well, I’m calling because I’m going to pick up my daughter today, seeing as I have full custody of her and she should really not be in your company at all.”

There it was. That disdain he had saved solely for her throughout this past year. And the sad part was—he wasn’t even wrong. Allison had been the one to tear apart their family. “I got cleared by a psychiatrist, Patrick,” she said shortly. “I’ve been through rehab. And you know I’d _never_ do that again. I _haven’t_ in the past few weeks that I’ve been living with her!” She drew in a breath. “So I want partial custody.”

She could almost sense what his expression was like over the phone, curled lip, cold eyes, crossed arms. “Whatever. I’ll see you in court. But for now, I get Claire. I’ll send someone by to pick her up around ten a.m.”

That was three hours away from now. That complete _bastard!_ “Fine,” Allison snapped, and she hung up the phone without any further discussion.

“Mommy, are you alright?” spoke a small voice from her doorway. Claire stood there, clutching Mimi, the bear she loved. Allison smiled and went over to pick her up, tapping her nose lightly. “Everything is fine, baby,” she told her daughter. “In fact, it’s more than fine. Your daddy’s awake!”

“Yay!” Claire squealed, and she squeezed Allison so tightly that it hurt. How had she gotten so strong?

Allison nodded slightly, giving Claire a kiss on the cheek. “I won’t be able to see you for awhile, though. It will be like it was before.” She tried not to let tears sting her eyes as she said it.

“But I don’t want to go!” Claire wailed, the sound morphing into a scream. “I don’t wanna!”

“Shh, shh,” Allison whispered, patting Claire’s back gently. “I’m trying to change things with Daddy, okay? We might be able to make it so that I can see you more often.”

“I hope so,” her daughter said with a small sob. “I missed you so much.”

“I know, darling,” Allison murmured. “I won’t be gone forever.”

***

Claire’s escort arrived at ten o’clock on the dot. “Thank you,” Allison told the young driver with a tight smile. He shot her a sympathetic look, but only nodded. “Have a nice day.”

She returned inside the house feeling more alone than ever. For a brief moment, everything had been wonderful, and then everything had shattered.

She sat down in the kitchen, grateful when Grace arrived and poured her a hot cup of tea.

“Thanks, Mom,” Allison mumbled, trying not to cry. Her mother seemed to notice, sitting down in the chair beside her and running her hand up and down on her forearm. “Tea makes you feel better,” she said quietly.

“What would you do if anyone took us away?” Allison asked suddenly. “If Dad had separated you from us, what would you have done?”

“Well, I—I’m not sure,” Grace muttered, her eyes wide. “I’ve never thought about something like that happening...I honestly can’t tell you, darling.”

“Of course you can’t,” Allison said harshly, and she pushed herself out from the chair and headed towards the door. “You’re just a robot.”

***

Five was staring at himself in the mirror again. He wasn’t vain, per se, but he certainly was discontent with his appearance. He fucking _hated_ this body. If there’s one thing he regretted about blowing up the Commission, it was that the Handler was now dead and couldn’t make him a new body. That was infuriating.

But having a world to live in was infinitely better.

The day crept on, seemingly slower than usual. Five worked on his brief time-traveling moments, which he had begun to master; he also studied in Hargreeves’s personal library, researching to help himself with his equations.

Dinner approached, but it was a somber affair without the bright face and talkative lips of a child. Five didn’t like children, but he had found Claire bearable, and her absence upsetted Allison greatly. None of them talked that meal aside from requests to pass the salad of the water jug. Ben and Dave sat silently beside Klaus, taking everything in, all their surroundings and the tangible emotional tension, but ate nothing.

That, conveniently, is when Cha-Cha had to appear, armed with solely a gun.

“What are you even doing here?” Five asked her when she clicked off the safety. “I blew up the Commision HQ and we beat you the last time you were here. What’s going on?”

“You think I care about explaining shit to you?” Cha-Cha asked hysterically. “No. I don’t give a fuck about you, Number Five, and I don’t give a fuck about Hazel or the Handler either! And I give negative fucks about that goddamn Commissioner!”

 _Commissioner_?

“Who’s that?” Five asked bluntly. The Handler had hinted that she was ‘but a cog in a machine,’ but he’d never really taken her seriously. Well, fuck him for it.

Cha-Cha had already begun to shoot, hitting Diego in the shoulder and Vanya in the arm; the Umbrella Academy’s best defenses during an ambush such as this one. They both cried out, screaming in pain.

Luther lunged forward, but Cha-Cha already held a kitchen knife in her hand and was hurtling it at Luther’s chest. It didn’t strike deep, but it was enough to cause him a bout of pain, and he winced, staggering backwards.

Five seized his chance as she grabbed another knife from the rack. He teleported right behind her shoulder and grabbed her around the neck, pulling the assassin backwards. “You thought this would be easy, huh?” he growled.

“I thought—you might—say—that,” Cha-Cha groaned, struggling to breathe. “You’re so—predictable.” On that last word she took the gun and pressed the barrel to his thigh, squeezing the trigger with efficiency.

Pain, glorious pain, shot through him, and Five immediately let her go, clutching at his bloody leg with his thin hands. There was red everywhere, and there was—

But he couldn’t think. Everything was simply _pain_.

Just then, a bluish light filled the room. Ben was glowing, and his eyes were cast towards the ceiling, arms spread out wide. Without warning, the tentacles sprung forth from his body, grabbing at Cha-Cha and throwing her across the room.

“DON’T KILL HER!” Five screamed, and it was all he could do before he passed out.

***

Vanya woke to the walls of the mansion’s infirmary, bright light filtering in through the windows. Her arm was wrapped in a thick bandage and it was aching beyond comprehension.

Breathing heavily, Vanya rolled left to see that the two beds next to hers were filled; Diego’s shoulder had a thick bandage wrapped around it like her arm did, and beyond that, Five lay flat on his back, his entire left leg held in a brace. Klaus was there too, curled up on his side with his arms wrapped around a pillow.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” muttered a voice behind her. Vanya flinched, turning slowly to see Ben leaning over her on the other side of the bed. “Jesus Christ, Ben,” she muttered. “There are less creepy ways to announce your presence.”

He only smiled, but it was a sad thing. “Who knows how many years I would have spent pranking you guys like this,” he said with a chuckle.

“How are you...here?” Vanya asked him, rubbing the bandage on her arm absentmindedly. “Klaus is unconscious.”

“He’s using his power right now, whether he knows it or not,” Ben replied with a shrug. “Though of course, Dave’s not here, so it might just be that I’m the exception, as usual.”

“Do you think that he could be in Klaus’s dream right now?”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Possibly.” He made a face, and Vanya laughed. It was good to joke with a brother. But she needed to find out what had happened. “Where is Cha-Cha?”

“She's here, actually,” Ben said, his jaw twitching.

“Why the fuck—?”

“Klaus wouldn't let Diego kill him,” Ben explained. He shivered despite the heat and his dark hoodie. “I've never seen Diego so angry before. He was scary, to be honest.”

She could imagine. Luther and Diego's moods were enough to earn them the spots of Numbers One and Two alone, and she had witnessed many of their tantrums in her lifetime.

But this hadn't been a tantrum. This was something darker and more powerful. Vanya knew the feeling; it had always resided deep within her, strengthened as the years wore on. _Resentment_ , and on top of that, _revenge_.

“Where is she?” Vanya finally asked. “Cha-Cha, I mean.”

“In the prison that had been made for you,” Ben said in a low voice, almost hesitant. He didn’t want to upset her, it seemed. “Luther fixed up the wall. It’s not indestructible, but it’s heavy enough that she won’t be able to escape.”

Vanya felt something cold on the back of her neck. She didn’t want it, this feeling. Cha-Cha had done nothing but ruin her family just when it was starting to heal, and she felt _bad_ for her?

“Can you wake up Five?” she suddenly asked, a pressing sense of urgency falling upon her. “I need to talk to him.”

“Sure,” Ben replied, shrugging. He straightened, looking slightly disappointed, and walked over to Five’s sickbed, rousing him gently.

Five shot upwards in a burst of energy, eyes wide and fists ready. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice sharp.

“It’s me, you fool,” Ben said, flicking Five’s forehead. Their brother scowled and attempted to throw his legs over the bed, groaning when he realized that he couldn’t walk.

“We need to interrogate Cha-Cha,” Vanya told him quickly. “She knows more than we do about the new Commission, or whoever it is that keeps sending her to kill us. And she can tell us why.”

Five raised an eyebrow. “And who’s going to get the answers out of her?”

“You,” Vanya replied bluntly. “You’re probably the only one of us who knows how to torture anyone.” It almost made her sick to say it. Almost, but not quite.

As they spoke, Diego and Klaus slowly woke up, Klaus rubbing his eyes groggily. “Whazgoinon?” he muttered in an incomprehensible voice, coughing a bit to clear his throat. Vanya and Ben exchanged a wry grin.

“Vanya’s trying to get me to torture Cha-Cha,” Five explained, his voice clipped. He released a huff of unamused laughter.

“No, I want to do it,” Diego growled, his hand pulling out a knife from his sheath and gripping it tightly. “I want to see the pain and remorse in her eyes.”

“Diego, that’s exactly why you can’t do it,” Five said with a sigh. “Effective torture can’t be rooted in wanting to cause pain. It has to be methodological, precise. Emotionless.” He turned to Vanya, nodding. “Which is why I accept.”

***

Cha-Cha, down in the deepest catacombs of the Academy, suspected that the siblings would choose to torture her. It was something she’d been trained against in the rare event that she got captured. It was something she was meant to be able to resist.

But her training had never covered what to do when said interrogation dealt with emotions. She knew what the siblings thought of her, and they knew what she thought of them, but neither of them had the entire story.

Torture, it seemed, was not so simple after all.

***

Balance, balance, balance. Vanya felt it all in her bones—or really, the lack of it. Ever since she’d regained the sense of her powers and stopped taking her medication, the world had seemed wide and open and...tilted?

This wasn’t the apocalypse, Vanya knew. But when she reached out with her mind into the rippling waves of energy, there was a dark presence forcing itself between the naturalness of her power, and she had no idea what it was, except that it almost smelled like rotting flesh.

Something was there. All was not well, though everyone acted like everything was over. Hopefully, when they interrogated Cha-Cha, the assassin would know something related to her predicament. And if not, well, Vanya would have to destroy it herself.

**THE END. FOR NOW.**


	9. end notes!

[end notes!](https://ia601509.us.archive.org/11/items/1.-precipice_202008/end%20notes%21%21.mp3)

**TEXT TRANSCRIPTION**

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The title of this fic is a line from the poem "The Soldier" by Rupert Brooke.

This fic began via a series of disjointed headcanons thrown between astra (alstroemeria_thoughts/aurantiaca) and I, and it was written before s2 came out, and is therefore a little outdated. We were both super hyped for season 2 and of course wanted reconciliation between the siblings. This is perhaps what could have been. It's also like a TUA character and relationship study, especially since both astra and I wanted to focus on the platonic relationships in the show and how that helped them heal. They are far away from their goal, but they will get there eventually. After all, they have each other.

You can see that a few scenes are taken directly from s1 of the show itself, or at least inspired by those scenes; namely, that one angsty klaus and diego scene from the day that wasn’t, the call Allison makes to claire with luther’s support, and klaus channeling ben’s power.

As for the relationships, I know a lot of people really dislike ships between the Hargreeves adoptive siblings. In some of my AUs, they are students at a boarding school rather than siblings, and in that capacity I do ship them. In _this_ AU however, the Hargreeves peeps are totally just siblings who are trying to build a life together. However, I wanted to keep this pretty close to where canon left off, so I obviously had Aluther be a quick thing for a moment to resolve their romance from season 1. Now they are moving on as friends and working towards a healthy sibling relationship!

I didn't expect to write this much for Cha-Cha's arc. Watching season 1, I was always very intrigued by her relationship with Hazel, and how his romance with Agnes affected her. I think it's kind of implied that she was in love with him? Either way, if I end up ever writing a sequel to this fic, it will definitely focus on her story a great deal. I love her character.

I wanted to leave this fic with an open end...you can either choose to imagine what would happen and draw your own conclusions, or keep an eye out for a sequel that would involve a lot of Cha-Cha, Commissioner, and Vanya. Others, too, but those would be the main plot focus. This is probably a sequel that I won’t write, but if I did, it would be a _slight_ crossover. And it would of course include aspects of season 2.

A special thank you to everyone who worked on this project, including: Astra who alpha read and narrated, Maven (that’s me, darklingsheart) who wrote the story, Aayushi who beta read, and all those who sprinted with me along the way, especially Rêve, Mel, and Zoë, who cheered me on and made me write even when I didn't want to. You guys are amazing<3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you got to the end of this fic, thanks so much for reading! kudos and comments are always appreciated, and the writer (MavenMorozova) would love to hear feedback as well!
> 
> <3


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